


Saving the world with the soul firmly intact

by Valkyrieza



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Action/Adventure, Attempted Sexual Assault, Crossover, Drama, F/M, Flirting, Gen, Heroes & Heroines, Humor, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Romance, Saving the World, Slow Build, The Breach (Dragon Age), mentor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5816233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valkyrieza/pseuds/Valkyrieza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elder Scrolls Online/Dragon Age Inquisition crossover<br/>The Vestige had defeated Molag-Bal, saved countless lives and became a champion of Tamriel. Her reward? The gods have forbidden her to settle on the very world she has fought so hard to save. She is offered to settle in Thedas instead, her hero days to be left behind. Good thing she learnt those crafts, after all, who can say no to a good cook?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A good cook is always in demand - Conversations with Solas

**Author's Note:**

> I always felt that the Elder Scrolls:Online had such potential for an amazing story for Vestige, but it's never really realised properly. I think it's partly because you can't do those personal character-to-character interactions in an online game as well as in a single-player game. This is my take on a retired Vestige forced by the gods to settle in the Dragon Age universe. Unfortunately, being a hero means the impulse to save people never quite dies so when Vestige helps some pilgrims reach the mountain town of Haven, she is once again living in Interesting Times. Hopefully, she is no longer the hero of the story. Hopefully.  
> There are almost no fanfics using the hero of ESO, so this is my un-betaed contribution.

The snow crunched loudly beneath his boots as he came to a stop in front of a small group of women busy stirring large pots containing the newly minted Inquisition's supper.

“Does anyone here know how to help with bandaging wounds?” The gruffness of his voice spoke of a long time spent surrounded by fumes of various concoctions. The whispers resulting from his question made him in frown in irritation:

“He must mean the killer.”

“I’d be too scared to touch ‘im, he’d murder me as he sleeps!”

“He’ll murder me with his presence before I touch ‘im, what if does the same as at the Conclave?”

Adan was not the most patient man in Thedas at the best of times, but the tittering murmurs and the refusal of the women to meet his gaze lest they agree just by looking at him cut his already short fuse.

“I’m not asking you to restrain him, just help the elf and I with treating his wounds by doing some bandaging! Daft hens, he won’t do any harm to you!” Even his glare and what he felt was a reasonable assurance didn’t seem to move anyone in the group of former Haven pilgrims that volunteered to cook for the Inquisition.

“I’ll assist Master Adan. I’ve helped with treating wounded people before.” The alchemist turned around towards the voice. “I wouldn’t want to distract you from your work Mistress Varelli.”

The tall dark-haired woman was currently Haven’s head cook and kept the people in Haven in good order with her cooking. Most importantly, none managed to fall sick due to her food and thus didn’t bother him. This accorded Mistress Varelli more respect from the alchemist and accounted for a more measured tone in their conversation.

“Most of the work has already been done. My helpers will see to the stirring of the stew and the bread won’t go into the ovens for some time yet.”

Looking relieved, the alchemist turned to walk to the cabin housing his new patient and the strange elven apostate who was keeping him alive. The woman caught up with him as he was about to enter the cabin.

It was large by Haven’s standards, containing not only enough room for a bed, but also a small wardrobe and space for the alchemist to lay his various potions and instruments. The man on the bed stirred briefly as Adan and the woman entered, but did not wake or even open his eyes. The tall elf sitting by the right side of the bed turned towards the alchemist.

“Did you manage to find someone to assist?”

“None of these devout pilgrims wanted to help us Solas, but fortunately, Mistress Varelli here agreed or I would have had to ask Seeker Pentaghast to choose a volunteer.”

The elf looked at the woman more closely: “Not everyone would have agreed to help this man, many believe him to be the Divine’s killer.”

The woman shrugged: “He is the only survivor of the Conclave. Until he wakes, dubbing him a killer would seem pointless.”

“For some it’s enough, many in the camp has already decided he’s guilty. I need to get more embrium, it shouldn’t take more than an hour. “Adan turned towards the door with an ungraceful, but economical movement and left the cabin.

“If you would please clean the torso of our patient Mistress Varelli. He has some nasty scratches on his ribs that I’m hoping won’t get infected.”

“Just Lenora, Master Solas.” The woman stood near the small mobile basin and poured some hot water from a nearby large jug on her hands, rubbing them together as to remove any dirt on her palms.

“Then just Solas please. The soap is to your right next to the empty red flask”. Solas watched the woman use the soap block to lather her hands and use more hot water to wash it off. This showed that at least, she has treated wounded before and knew to wash her hands before cleaning any wounds. That boded well for his patient, many in Haven would prefer to see him dead.

Lenora had in the meantime removed the patient’s shirt and his old bandages. She was using a clean wet cloth to wipe his torso, careful about pressing too hard on a particularly deep gash on his ribs as she asked if anyone knew who he was.

“Sister Nightingale believes that this is Aedan Trevelyan. One of the members of the House Trevelyan present at the Conclave. From what I’ve heard, he was a mage sympathiser, who wasn’t there on behalf of his house. House Trevelyan I’m given to understand is loyal to the Chantry and has more than one member as a lay brother or sister and even a few Templar among their numbers.”

“I can see why his name wasn’t announced to the general populace. It’s easy to find a scapegoat at times like these and his sympathies make him an easy target.” Lenora took a new bandage and put some healing paste on it in preparation of wrapping it around the unconscious man.

“Many pilgrims to Haven aren’t very sympathetic to mages.” The statement was made in a neutral tone, but Solas’ posture was tense.

Lenora didn’t respond straight away; her right hand carefully lifting the patient’s shoulders so she would be able get the bandage around his body. She extended her left hand towards the small bowl containing the healing paste and it floated gently next to her as she scooped some paste to put it onto the gash on the patient’s ribs. The bandages started slowly wrapping themselves around the man’s torso while she checked that they were not bound too tightly.

“The ability to use magic does not make one dangerous, many don’t understand that it’s the wielder’s intent that shapes the effect. This includes most of the pilgrims. Some will even react with hostility to things that they don’t understand. I’m not a pilgrim. I also wouldn’t attack someone, who looks like they’re barely breathing on pure speculation.”

Solas kept silent and moved to help her with lowering the man’s shoulders back onto the bed slowly.

“If you’re not a pilgrim, then why come to Haven? “ The question was asked as Lenora gathered the used bandages to be cleaned. She shrugged again before replying.

“I helped a few pilgrims reach Haven when I found them lost in the Hinterlands about a week ago. I was curious about Haven so I made the journey with them. The day after I arrived, the Conclave went up in ash and fire. Commander Cullen was searching for someone to help with cooking for the Inquisition since the previous cook perished at the Conclave and his apprentice wasn’t skilled enough to do the job.

“Just like that, Commander Cullen asked and you agreed to cook for more than 200 people in a dire situation?” Solas was smiling to show that the question wasn’t to be taken seriously.

Lenora’s lips twitched slightly, clearly suppressing a smile.

“Commander Cullen may be a handsome man, but I smelt the apprentice’s concoction. There was more danger to be had from eating that stew than all the demons attacking the Inquisition. No cook worth their salt would have left without helping.”

“Saving the world through cooking is a noble cause. I wish all my enemies were as easily defeated as hungry stomachs. My apologies Lenora, I did not mean to offend. Your cooking skills are highly spoken of and probably have kept more than one soldier staying with the Inquisition.”

“None taken. Now if there is nothing else for the moment, I’ll get these bandages washed and ready to be used this evening.” With that, she pushed the cabin door open to leave and only Solas’ sharp elven hearing picked up her last sentence, probably not intended to be heard.

“Far nobler than leading people to their deaths.”

Then the door closed and the bowl with the healing paste gently floated down to sit among the potion flasks.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lenora returned that same evening to bring back the cleaned bandages as well as some food for both Solas and Adan. Leaving them to eat she returned a short time later with a bowl of soup for their patient.

“Is he well enough to be fed?” Adan put his empty bowl of stew down, “We tried to get some warm tea down his throat yesterday, but will need to lift him up. He might swallow if we pour the soup into his mouth carefully.”

Lenora took an empty cup sitting among the small army of flasks near the mobile basin filled with hot water. “Can I use this? The soup is thin enough to be poured into the cup and fed as tea.”

Adan nodded in answer and gathered his and Solas’ empty bowls. “I’ll return these in the meantime and report to Sister Nightingale about his progress.”

This time it was Solas who gently lifted the patient’s shoulders and got him into a sitting position.

“I think that wound on his ribs has almost healed. I would like you to re-apply the salve once Aedan has been fed.”

She nodded and poured the soup into the cup trying to make sure that nothing was spilled and brought the edge of the cup to his lips and tilted it towards the young man’s mouth. He was clearly thirsty and started swallowing the soup as soon as the liquid touched his lips.

“Steady now, the soup isn’t going anywhere.”

Whether he was cognisant of her admonishment or not he slowed down in his gulping motions and soon the cup was empty. Lenora was about to put the cup down when his eyes opened and fixed a bleary-looking gaze upon her face.

“Blue Eyes.” – His voice sounded rusty. “Come dancing with me beautiful.”

Solas rose from his seat by the bed. “You’re awake! What can you remember?” But the dark-haired human closed his eyes and slipped back into unconsciousness whilst the green light of the mark on his left hand flared.

“He is better, but not well enough to wake. Perhaps tomorrow.” Solas sounded disappointed as he pushed some energy into the mark on Aedan’s left hand.

“Well, nothing wrong with his flirting skills at least.” – Lenora remarked dryly, recovering from the initial shock of being flirted with by a man who spent the last two days insensible on the bed.

“Indeed. I imagine Commander Cullen will be jealous if that’s a reaction after only one cup of soup – Blue Eyes.”

Lenora started laughing prompting a wider smile from Solas. She set the cup on the floor and laughed more, initial soft sounds becoming louder.

“I can only imagine the chaos if he ever tastes my desserts.”

“I think we might have to ask Seeker Pentaghast to intervene in his duel with the Commander.”

That set Lenora off even more and she leaned against the wall of the cabin for support and Solas couldn’t help, but chuckle in mirth at the mental image.”

The door to the cabin opened abruptly as the aforementioned Seeker strode into the cabin. The tall warrior glared at Solas first, her mouth set in a grim line.

“I didn’t realise our situation warranted such amusement.” She ground out and sent a terse look towards Lenora. “Has the patient awakened yet?”

Solas stiffened, the hostility of the other woman palpable, but he kept his tone even as he replied: “Only very briefly Seeker. He’s improving and should be able to wake soon.”

If possible, Cassandra Pentaghast ground her teeth even closer together: “How soon? The Breach widens very fast and our forces are severely strained by the masses of demons pouring out.”

“The patient grows stronger, perhaps another day and he should be able to wake. He is too weak at the moment.” Solas tried to sound placating, but he didn’t think it would be possible with the Seeker.

“You have until tomorrow midday and no sending him into a magical sleep. He will be awake and ready to be questioned. Is it understood?” Solas nodded, seemingly unperturbed by the order he received.

The warrior whirled to focus her glare on Lenora: “Do you not have duties to attend to instead of flirting?” She folded her arms in front of her and stared down on Lenora who was still leaning against the wall of the cabin.

“I’m assisting Solas with bandaging the patient’s wounds.”

“I don’t think the prisoner will need any more coddling, you’re dismissed.” The Seeker was about to leave the cabin after issuing her orders when a quiet voice interrupted her mid-stride.

“When I’m done with the bandages My Lady, the patient is still weak.”

To her credit, the Seeker’s reaction was a lot milder than her earlier tone suggested. This time she turned and faced Lenora straight, examining her possibly for the first time. Solas had seen the Seeker turn her ire on seasoned soldiers and then seen them tremble after she was through talking to them, yet the volunteer cook from Haven didn’t seem to be intimidated.

“I believe I gave you an order, soldier.” Seeker’s voice was deceptively mild barely holding back the potential to turn nasty.

Lenora seems to have ignored the warning signs in front of her as she replied, “I’m not a soldier Lady Pentaghast. I’m only assisting with cooking for the volunteers of the Inquisition.” She straightened from her pose of leaning against the cabin wall and looked the armoured woman in the eye.

The two women faced each for a long moment, the Seeker glaring at the shorter woman, who in turn simply stared back. Cassandra Pentaghast’s shoulders slumped slightly and she turned towards the door again.

“Do what you need to do and return to your duties. The Inquisition needs all the skills they can get. And Solas? – Her tone switched to that deceptively mild note, “No magical sleep.”

“Of course Seeker Pentaghast.”

The door slammed and the remaining occupants let out a small breath of relief. The Seeker took all her tension with her and the cabin seemed bigger without it. Solas looked at Lenora again before speaking.

“I believe the term I heard used for your behaviour is called nervy. Some soldiers will even say insolent.”

Lenora grinned, “Audacious, brazen, impertinent or simply disrespectful. I heard them before, but I still will not let anyone bully me. Especially for no other reason is that because they’re tired.”

Solas couldn’t help but smile back. “Careful or our dear lady Seeker may conscript you, lack of sleep and all.”

“I doubt it. I was never a good soldier. Occasionally a good scout, but never one to obey orders readily.” She picked up the jar containing the healing paste. “I’ll redo the bandages, those gashes should heal in the next few days.”

Solas sighed, “He may not have a few says, each time the Breach grows it hurts him more. The Breach is killing him unless we find a way to close it.”

Lenora was in the process of unwrapping the bandages, but stopped to look at Solas in concern.

“He needs to be awake for the mark to be manipulated properly. Isn’t it?” They hadn’t talked about the mark, a stark reminder of the reality containing demons and rifts hidden behind the relative safety of the cabin walls.

Solas nodded, his earlier tiredness slamming into him as his shoulders slumped. “I suspect he can use the mark to shut the smaller rifts and possibly the Breach as well. For that, he needs to be awake. His body had been pushing back the effects of the mark, but it hasn’t had the chance to recover so he can wake up. Even a night’s sleep would be enough for him to wake. I tried sending him into a magical sleep before, but there is too much interference from the mark. It’s trying to bond with his body, but the body’s natural defences won’t let it. I don’t think the bonding will kill Aedan though.” The last part was said to reassure his unexpected ally or maybe even himself.

“What if there is a way for his body to rest so the mark will bond without his body resisting?” Lenora’s voice was speculative, but Solas could see the suggestion taking hold.

“How? I tried to shut down the mark, or simply make it less active without any success. The mark seems to either counteract any magic used on it or amplify it. Either way it remains active”

“If you can get the mark to amplify the magic, I might be able to send some magic aimed at tiring out the subject and the mark will make sure it happens quicker. His body will be too exhausted to fight the mark and he’ll sleep naturally.”

“The mark can then integrate with his body easier without the body’s defences trying to expel it.” He paused, thinking of repercussions. “Will you be able to do it safely?”

“I’ve done it before, but the way I would have to do this is…different. The channelling of this spell needs to be done with precision that an open Veil might make difficult.” Lenora’s voice was quiet and Solas sensed that probing further would not help the present situation.

Lenora seemed to reach a decision, “Let’s re-bandage his ribs and we can begin.”

Together they managed to wrap fresh bandages around Aedan’s torso in record short time and then they both sat down on the bed. Lenora was on one side, fingers still bearing a trace of the healing paste, residing on Aedan’s temples and Solas was holding his left hand with both his palms.

“Are you ready Lenora?” The woman nodded and closed her eyes. Soft white light suffused her fingers and flowed into Aedan. Slowly at first, but the light seemed to spread from his head into his neck and flowed downwards until the white light flowed around his entire body.

“You can begin now Solas.” Despite the seemingly easy way the magic seemed to flow from her fingers, her voice sounded strained.

Solas started to push a little energy into the mark. He knew after taking care of Aedan that if small amounts of energy were pushed into the mark, it would amplify the sent magic. Alternatively, if he was to push too much energy the mark would serve as a barrier to stop any magic aimed at it. Soon, the energy Lenora was pushing into the mark became amplified and Aedan's hand flared bright green. It took a few more minutes until the bed and all its occupants were covered in a pale green light, the green of the mark merging with whatever magic Lenora produced.

It felt that an hour was spent with both Lenora and him just sitting on the bed and gently pushing energy into the man on the bed. Finally, he felt Aedan’s hand go completely limp and looked to see that the man was finally asleep, not just unconscious, his features relaxed, quite unlike the near permanent expression of pain of the past two days.

A barely audible groan escaped the woman to his right. Lenora was no longer casting any magic, but as she turned to look at Solas he could see that she looked drained, her face pale with exhaustion. He smiled at her, relief open on his face instead of the usual indifferent mask the others saw, “He is asleep, we did it.”

“Good, he should sleep till at least late tomorrow morning. Hopefully, he’ll be alive after the Seeker is done asking questions.”

“Hopefully, Sister Nightingale will prevent any outright violence. It would be a shame for him to die before we found out if the mark works.” Lenora smiled:

“It helps that he still has his soul.” Solas looked confused. “How does that help?”

“Oh, being in possession of your soul is half the battle. That way you can fully concentrate on saving world.” Solas wasn’t sure how to respond, feeling he was just too tired. He still couldn’t resist a question:

“How can you be sure he will save the world?” Lenora got up slowly, picking up the latest bandages to be cleaned and then walked towards the door.

“Isn’t it usually how these things go?” With that, she pushed the door open and walked out into the night.

Solas was still puzzling over their conversation the next day, when the Seeker and two burly Inquisition guards arrived and dragged Aedan towards the dungeon in Haven's Chantry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. After defeating a Daedric Prince and defeating champions of other Daedric princes an angry Seeker is not very intimidating.  
> 2\. Tamriel is incredibly rich with magic. So much so that even ordinarily people use it in every day life. By contrast, Thedas is not nearly as magic heavy and the Veil as we have seen, makes it harder. The attitudes towards Mages are also different, with the Redguards and the Nords being the closest to not liking magic. The concept of a Dragon Age Templar would probably be offensive to most Mages in Tamriel.  
> 3\. My Vestige Lenora is a sorceress and trying to wield magic in the same way as on Tamriel will at least at first, be incredibly tiring.  
> 4\. In Elder Scrolls, the soul is such an important part of the story. In Thedas, not so much thus Solas' confusion is understandable


	2. The Seeker of stories and Pride demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that every time Lenora sees Aedan Trevelyan he is unconscious. Well, mostly, unless he is asking her to dance with him. Fortunately, meeting Varric does help a little. So does the discussion about the Seeker and Pride demon killing techniques.

 

The little girl was gaining some distance on her brother when he suddenly changed direction and ran to hide behind a huge pot hung over a campfire, steam rising from its contents. She ran after him, but couldn’t turn fast enough to avoid the pot and almost ended up planting her body into the campfire. In what seemed to be the last moment before she fell, her shoulders were grabbed stopping her momentum.

“I think that’s enough running around the kitchens Petra.” The hands gently turned her around to face their owner. She looked at the woman holding her shoulders firmly, but gently.

“Sorry Mistress Varelli, I almost caught Noran this time. I’m not trying to knock anything over.” The girl slumped her shoulders as a way to show that her apology was genuine.

“I think that pot had a better chance of knocking you over instead. Next time, if you and your brother are playing tag, do it away from the pots, preferably closer to the Chantry walls than cooking fires. That goes for your brother as well.” – The girl nodded and as soon as Lenora removed her hands ran towards her brother. Lenora stood up from where she was sitting on her haunches and turned towards the noise coming towards her.

“Master Adan, how can I help you?” – The alchemist sighed as he came to a stop in front of her.

“I came to ask that you help Solas and I one more time with bandaging the Herald. He acquired more cuts and bruises when he stabilised the Breach. Solas was impressed with your skill when you helped him earlier and asked for you directly.” - Adan wasn’t used to giving praise, but the taciturn man felt grateful for her help earlier, not that he would ever consider saying that out loud.

“Were there no volunteers this time?” – Lenora smiled at the man opposite her, amused by the man’s obvious inexperience in being polite.

“Far too many this time, but I doubt most of them know you need to wash your hands before applying a salve. Solas and I thought it would be easier if you were to help again. Also, please call me Adan.” – For a moment he seemed unsure of her response before noticing her smile.

“Of course Adan. I would be happy to help.” Looking relieved the alchemist turned towards the cabin that he used as an office.

“I just need to make more healing paste. Please go through to the Herald’s cabin. Solas is waiting.” He hesitated for a moment before walking back to his own cabin.

Lenora started towards the cabin Seeker Pentaghast gave up for the man that only a few days ago was branded a killer and a criminal. She managed to avoid most people milling nearby hoping to catch a glimpse at the newly proclaimed Herald of Andraste. A few women gave her envious glances as she opened the door to walk into the cabin.

Solas raised his head at her entrance. A smile of relief graced his face as he realised who the new visitor was.

“I was hoping it was you. Too many people want to help the newly-created Herald now that he is no longer accused of murdering the Divine. Of course, almost all of them know nothing about healing.”

“That bad? I received some envious looks on my way here, but didn’t realise the change in attitude was this drastic. “

This cabin had even more space than Adan’s cabin and the mobile basin was clearly moved here, filled to the brim with hot water. Lenora reached for the soap piece before pouring a jug of hot water into a bowl to wash her hands. Solas gave an annoyed huff at her words:

“If it were not for the Seeker, the Herald would be married 20 times over. Silly women!”

Lenora looked curious: “No potential husbands?”

Solas gave her an oddly inquisitive look: “Whilst nobles are not prohibited from marrying whoever they choose, in practice, only the nobles of opposite sexes marry to extend political alliances and to ensure the blood lines’ continuation. Free Marches are considered more open than most, but marriage is a practical endeavour.”

“Oh, a pragmatic approach. I see that it’s not just practiced amongst the royals.” Lenora washed her hands and approached the bed holding fresh bandages and a bowl of healing paste.

“He does look like he acquired more wounds in a single afternoon than in the few days he lay in Adan’s cabin with everyone wanting to kill him.” She began removing his shirt to she could start unwrapping old bandages.

Solas gave a short laugh: “He’s an interesting individual. Most people would be frightened to find themselves in a situation where they are accused of killing the most powerful religious figure in southern Thedas. Aedan simply shrugged off the Seeker’s ire and concentrated on fighting demons and closing rifts as they spawned. He even managed to save some stranded scouts before trying to run his sword through a Pride demon. As I said, an interesting individual.”

“He impressed you then?” Lenora directed the bandages to wrap around Aedan’s waist whilst holding up his shoulders.

“Perhaps a little. His manner is friendly and open and he didn’t seem to have the usual prejudices against non-humans and magic. He is not without teeth though. Called Chancellor Roderick an old dear and told him to go and sweep a Chantry instead of making decisions.”

Lenora laughed: “Really? I’ve met the Chancellor. This is exactly the kind of thing that will make him enraged beyond reason. I would have liked to be there for that conversation.”

She finished tightening the bandages around his torso and picked up a wet cloth starting to wipe at the scratches on his arms.

“There were too many demons to make that experience really pleasant. The Pride demon nearly wiped us all out before the Herald stabilised the Breach.”

“Pride demons? The really tall ones that look like walking giant lizards with too many eyes and funny horns?”

Solas paused in his cutting of bandages into smaller strips: “You’ve met one before?” Lenora shrugged:

“It was unpleasant and it took a while to kill. Not something I would like to encounter in a hurry again.” Solas gaped at her for a moment.

“You encountered a Pride Demon and killed it. Forgive me for sounding incredulous, but that’s a feat not many would claim to have achieved.”

“There were several people involved in the killing part and we almost died putting it down. Unless you don’t believe me?” Lenora sounded a little hurt.

Solas considered her for a long moment before responding. She wasn’t that much shorter than Cassandra Pentaghast, but probably slimmer due to not having to wear heavy armour. However the ease with which she handled the Herald, a tall and heavy human by raising his shoulders with one hand whilst the other hand used magic to bring the healing supplies to her spoke of strength and stamina. Their conversations showed that she was far from stupid and a glance at her fingers, bare of the gloves whilst tending to his patient, showed some calluses from handling a weapon. He wasn’t sure if it was from handling a staff or a sword, but they didn’t look like they came from a few days’ practice.

“I do believe you Lenora. It’s a little hard to reconcile an image of a slayer of demons with your current position as a head cook for the Inquisition.” This must have been the right thing to say when she smiled again.

“Cooking is more of a hobby I picked up whilst travelling. Although, I’ve met a few cooks, who could give most demons a run for their money if those demons tried to spoil their creative process.”

“I didn’t realise cooking required you to be a warrior.” – Solas sensed a story, but didn’t push for details.

“If you travel with an army, the ability to wield a knife against a looter of your stores can be just as important as knowing which spices help make a tough stew more palatable. Also, it includes having to be vigilant against those soldiers who come to acquire unauthorised snacks.” Lenora spoke, seemingly recollecting an old memory and momentarily stopping what she was doing.

“Did you break any bones with spoons?” – Solas was genuinely curious, considering that like him, Lenora hadn’t talked much about herself.

“Oh, I was mostly the one doing the looting or procuring those unauthorized snacks. Fortunately, I’m faster than I look and the wounds have long healed.”

“I can hardly imagine you as a looter, much less as a thief, even of snacks.” Lenora gave an impudent grin.

“It’s a lot easier to snatch a few pastries when the cook is busy before going out on patrol then spend hours hunched over a pot. I did manage to slip a few gold to the cooks for the trouble afterwards.”

The newly minted Herald stirred, letting out a groan that interrupted the conversation. Solas hurried to check that the mark didn’t flare, whilst Lenora, noticing that blood started to seep from his left thigh started removing his pants. She almost managed to get them off when the door opened to admit a freshly-shaven dwarf with a large crossbow on his back.

“I though part of the reason you are here Solas is to prevent marriage-minded women near Axe here.” Varric grinned widely, but his posture showed that he was wary of someone he didn’t know.

“If that wound is not tended too, he wouldn’t need to get married, at least for procreation purposes.” Lenora gave another tug and the pants came off, blood dripping where the material touched the wound. She reached for another clean wet cloth to clean the wound.

“Varric, this is Lenora Varelli. She is the head cook for the Inquisition and helped me take care of Aedan after he stumbled out of the Fade. Lenora, this is Varric, he was assisting the Seeker regarding the Kirkwall’s Champion before Aedan’s arrival.”

Varric looked at the human woman currently preoccupied with cleaning the wound. Tall and by human standards pretty, she looked to be in her mid-twenties, a lovely picture of a kind-hearted woman helping a wounded man. Varric however, didn’t get to where he is, especially after fighting alongside Hawke for all these years, if he didn’t notice the way she positioned her body where she could observe both him and Solas whilst continuing to take care of the wound, ready to act if they did anything untoward. He also hadn’t gotten to where he is, which is alive and unharmed without realising that her posture was unconscious. He had seen that type of reaction before, from old soldiers at the Hanged Man, who never sat with their back to the door and raised their cups with their off-hand. This Lenora maybe cooked for the Inquisition, but she could probably fight alongside the Seeker without having to ask which end of the sword was the sharp one.

He tried to cover up his long silence by teasing: “You didn’t tell me Axe had such a lovely guardian in addition to you! Never figured you for a glory hound Chuckles.”

Solas rolled his eyes at the comment. “We were pressed for time Varric and discussions about ways not to die and stabilise the Breach seemed to have priority.”

Lenora supressed a laugh, the stilted sound coming off as a snort as the man on the bed jerked and hissed in pain when she accidently pressed a little too hard on the wound. She gasped in surprise:

“So sorry!” - Removing the cloth, she took some healing paste and applied some on the inside of the thigh, barely touching the wound. Aedan’s eyes opened and once again a bleary green-eyed gaze settled on her face.

“Blue Eyes, why are we not dancing?” His voice was hoarse, but it sounded better since he last spoke to her. She replied, even though she realised he might not remember it:

“Sorry, I only dance with partners whose thighs are intact.”

“Oh.” That was all he could seemingly master before his eyes closed and he again succumbed to his unconscious state.

Reaching for a bandage for his thigh she became aware of two sets of eyes staring at her. She looked back, face kept purposefully blank to see who will speak first. Unsurprisingly, it was Varric, who after searching her face for any emotion decided to break the suddenly formed silence.

“Blue Eyes? Not bad. I wouldn’t have gone with that, but I suppose Axe was a little under pressure.” He wanted to say something else, when he was interrupted by Solas who was smiling widely.

“At least he is consistent. He is also strangely interested in dancing!”

“You mean he called you that before? What else did he say?” Lenora opened her mouth to reply, when some shouting outside courtesy of a certain Seeker of Truth rang out. It consisted of the Seeker berating the various people gathered outside for standing around when there was work to be done. The interest in the Herald was very strong, but it was clearly defeated under Cassandra Pentaghast’s ire as the sound outside indicated people leaving the proximity of the cabin. Her last words indicated that some soldiers would be posted outside to deter unauthorized visitors.

The noise outside stilled and quieted to indicate that her efforts were successful. The still awake occupants of the cabin didn’t utter a word, impressed by the skilful combination of intimidation and irritation in the Seeker’s words that achieved the result of the cabin no longer having a large outside audience.

“Well, the Seeker may not be a manipulator of words, but she certainly got the job done.” Varric commented in a slightly awed tone. Lenora nodded in agreement.

“A combination of shouting, common sense and the promise of running through you with a sword has always worked wonders.” Solas couldn’t resist adding his own thoughts to this:

“It’s persuasion, tempered by the appeal to reason and backed up by promise of violence. Depending on the delivery, it can be crude and effective.”

“Glad to see we’re all in agreement here. So, Axe knows you from before.” One could admire Varric’s dedication, despite its similarity to being a dog with a bone. Solas, seeing the beginning of a frown on Lenora’s face intervened:

“When we were helping Aedan, not long after he stepped out of the Fade, he briefly opened his eyes and saw Lenora. He called her Blue Eyes and asked her to go dancing with him before passing out. It’s a good sign that he was able to wait for Lenora’s reply before passing out again. It means that his body accepted the mark and is getting stronger. He should be awake soon, within a day or so.”

Varric indicated that he heard Solas’ reply with a shake of his head, but his eyes focused on Lenora yet again.

“So you never met him before and he asked you to dance?”

Looking exasperated as she manually wrapped the bandages around Aedan’s thigh she began removing any traces of blood from the affected area as she answered:

“I’ve never met him until a few days ago when Adan asked for someone to help with bandaging Aedan’s wounds. Since so many people were scared of doing it I volunteered.”

“And was dubbed as Lady Blue Eyes in return.” – Varric added with a broad smile plastered on his handsome weathered face. Lenora’s irritation faded with that smile, it was hard not to like the Dweomer in front of her. Well, dwarf to be precise since the Dwemer in Tamriel, before they mysteriously disappeared were a lot taller than the short man in front of her.

“Just Blue Eyes I think and he clearly loves dancing.”

“He certainly did enough of it at the temple dodging that Pride demon. I think those demons were more tired than they let on. Well, at least that’s the version I’ll be putting in my account of the events.”

“I look forward to reading it. Although too much movement confuses the Pride demons. Their multiple eyes are struggling to combine the opponents’ image into one in order to react fast enough. This slows them down just a little. The demons form in the Fade and clearly tried to go for a similar effect as bees, but their brains aren’t really processing this effectively. They’re not natural creatures after all and hadn’t really adapted.”

Varric, like Solas a short time before gaped at the woman, who didn’t stop with applying the bandage around her patient’s thigh. She finished and instead of trying to find another pair of pants to put him in, merely tugged the blanket from under Aedan and covered the unconscious man.

“You would have to tell me the story how you knew that!” Varric mentally corrected himself and tried a sweeter turn of phrase, perhaps realising that a more gracious request would achieve a better result.

“When you have a spare moment of course. Inquisition soldiers are a hungry bunch and with our ambassador inviting so many nobles I’m sure you’d want a moment of peace and quiet to talk and not to work.”

Lenora wasn’t prepared for such flattery or understanding and realised that she was nodding in agreement before her brain had fully processed the request. There was no backing out without offending Varric so she added:

“When you and I have some time Master Tethras, we can exchange some stories.”

Varric grinned an even wider grin than before and then started towards the cabin’s door.

“I look forward to it BlueEyes. I look forward to it.”

The door opened and he was gone before either Solas or Lenora could reply. Solas offered a half-smile in apology.

“Most people tend to underestimate Varric due to his self-depreciating humour and sincere flattery. I should have warned you that he is very charming and not easily denied in his unquenchable thirst for stories.”

“It’s all right. Fortunately, I have a lot of stories to tell without revealing more than I want to. Speaking of needed, I think these pants are too far gone to be used as a garment. Does Aedan need new clothes or has the Inquisition provided for that?”

“There are some clothes in the chest by the bed. Commander Cullen lent some of his clothes, since they seem to be of similar size. I believe the Quartermaster ordered more supplies for the new recruits and that included additional clothing for the members of the Inquisition.”

“Good to know, some of the pilgrims who had stayed behind to help aren’t very well provisioned and miss many essentials.”

“I agree, the situation has changed completely since the Conclave had blown up so unexpectedly. Still, some hope remains and a lot of it is invested in a man who can close rifts with his left hand and utter a great too many jokes.”

Lenora smiled at that. She and Solas shared another supportive moment until something had occurred to her as she picked up the bloodied material to see if she could salvage anything from the garment.

“Varric is never going to let me forget that silly nickname, is he?”

“Very Unlikely.”

A groan was his answer as she opened to door of the cabin to exit, leaving him and Aedan alone once more.

 

End Notes:

  1. I felt it's important for Lenora to meet Varric. He plays an integral role. Also, the Vestige has so many tales to share from all the lands of she had been too.
  2. There are a few stories about Vestige arriving on Thedas and before joining the Inquisition.
  3. Whilst both ESO and Dragon Age don't really make a big deal about who is marrying whom (regardless of gender) in general, the pragmatic approach of marrying someone who can give your noble house a better advantage and possibly bring more heirs will probably overrule love in a lot of places. Marriage for power and money isn't restricted to real life.



 

 

 

 


	3. Points of authority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lenora's hobby whilst travelling is now her job at the Inquisition. This means making sure that not only her cooking, but also her fellow cooks' cooking is up to standard. Of course, every barrel of apples has to have a rotten one that needs to be thrown out. Lenora just can't stop being the hero, even if she is just a cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted a chapter from Lenora's point of view. Lenora is too used to solving everyone's problems and being given a lot of freedom to do it. Here she is just the head cook for a fledging religious organisation, so she has to at least try to pretend to follow authority. No matter how much that may irritate her. This is also a slightly darker chapter dealing with discrimination and a form of racism. She may not be a knight in shining armour, but she has dealt with far too many races and cultures to side with bigots.

Chapter 3

Her hands looked tiny, nestled inside his much larger palm. She ran her right thumb across the calluses of his fingers, her touch light and in response he gave a small satisfied sound.

“Your hands are really large, I’m amazed you don't have the hilt of your sword custom- made.”

  
He pressed his lips against her naked shoulder: “You didn't complain earlier.  You rather liked it if your face was any indication. “

  
She gave his bicep a half-hearted punch: “I’m not your sword hilt and no comments on the word play Darien!”

  
He pressed his lips against her shoulder again, mouthing a silent reply that resulted in a pleasant tingle from his stubble against her skin. They were lying on her bed, blankets scattered to the floor, his larger body spooning hers, his other hand resting on her stomach.  He hooked his ankle in between her colder ones warming them.

  
“That's nice.” - He commented. “I could spend a few centuries like this, no need to swing my sword at any Daedra and letting Caldwell make peace between the guilds.”

  
“From your mouth to Molag-Bal's ears. He’d probably bring in additional reinforcements to Coldharbor just to spite everyone. “

  
“True.” - He agreed. “He doesn't appreciate the value of what he has. Do you think we can find him a temporary wife so we can take a break?”

  
She turned in his embrace to face him: “Only you would suggest such a silly thing, despite the fact that it somehow seems logical. I don't think Lady Meridia will take it as a viable suggestion for some reason.”

  
He pressed his lips to her collarbone in response and she could feel his smile. She reached out to touch his cheek, but instead of warm flesh touched a burning light as everything in her vision turned white.

  
Lenora opened her eyes looking at the brown canvas of her tent and let her tears make their way down her cheeks for a few painful moments before she sat upright and moved the flap to be greeted by Haven's biting morning air. Her tent was some distance from the main cluster of cabins that were built around the Chantry, which were used by the Inquisition as its headquarters. The many tents around those cabins were mostly used by the rank-and-file of the organisation.

She was offered to move into one of the cabins to share with others, once the higher-ups realised that her food helped keep the soldiers happy and in some cases, was the best food the latter had ever eaten.  She refused, after so many years spent running around to ensure that the various armies, nobles, merchants, families and soldiers didn’t get destroyed by the resident evildoers or simply kill each other in real or perceived slights, she’s gotten used to being on her own. It didn’t help that long ago, before she became known as The Saviour of Tamriel, she had her own suite of rooms complete with multitude of personal servants since she was 5. She simply didn’t have the experience of sharing living space and suspected herself of turning out to be a poor roommate if she did.

Haven was cold, but having camped outside Skyrim and around Bleakrock Isle its chill was muted. It was the winds she thought, the ones that used to come in from the sea on Bleakrock Isle just before the Covenant attacked a small garrison along with a bunch of farmers and fishermen in their quest to have a launching platform to attack the Ebonheart Pact, which made it such a cold miserable place. Haven with its almost constant kitchen fires, the clanging of swords and shields on the practice field outside the main gates and the feeling of hope that permeated every movement and action of the people inside felt a lot warmer than it probably was.

She exited the tent stretching her shoulders. The kitchen fires were already lit, the makeshift kitchen slowly growing to become more of a permanent structure and she could see a few figures stirring the pots that contained the breakfast porridge. Commander Cullen organised some of the workers to build around the campfires to make fireplaces, which made starting the fires easier. The Ambassador’s arrival ensured a lot more pots and pans and all manner of cooking equipment arrived as donations from the nobles interested in the Inquisition. Charity being what it is, a lot of the equipment was old and well used, but she managed to persuade Adan that the presence of the baked-in residues and grease in those old pots could be used as a testing ground for some of his more caustic mixtures.

Scooping up some snow, she rubbed a few handfuls into her face to clean the sleep out of her face and approached the pots. Hearing raised voices, she sped up until she arrived at the scene of conflict.

A young elven woman was cowering under the verbal assault of an older human woman whose bulk almost equalled the width of the pot that contained enough porridge to feed breakfast to several Inquisition patrols. Lenora felt her lips form a disapproving line. The older woman, Mistress Gnoll was a classic example of a lazy cook, who disguised her lack of skill with bullying of those she perceived to be weaker and heaping fawning flattery on others she felt that could help her. Any non-human or mage or even someone who looked that could be cowered into submission by her words and impression of bulk was fair game and Terzia, an elven servant that came with the Divine’s staff unfortunately ticked all the boxes for Gnoll’s perfect victim. Smoothing out her expression she stepped between the two women facing the older woman and thus halting her mid-tirade.

“Is there a problem Mistress Gnoll?” Lenora was at least half a head taller than the woman in front of her and her question was backed by a cold look.

“This knife-ear isn’t doing her job! She was supposed to make the porridge for both pots and stir them, yet she only tended the one!”  For a large woman her voice squeaked when she talked, rising to a high pitch toward the end to highlight her indignation.

“Each breakfast cook only has one pot to attend to Mistress Gnoll. If my memory serves me right, the pot to the right of Terzia’s is yours to tend to.”

The older woman straightened her shoulders trying to look Lenora directly in the eyes and changed her tactics.

“How right you are Mistress Varelli! We both know that these elves can’t be trusted to do anything right. I just thought to do this one a kindness by directing her so she won’t mess up.” The woman’s smile was conspiratorial, inviting shared commiseration about the race of the third woman in the conversation and thus neatly excluding her.

Lenora felt herself tense, it was the same tone and similar words used by the Dunmer about the Argonians or Bretons complaining about the stupidity of the Orcs or Altmer supremacists sneering about the Bosmer and Khajiit. For a mediocre cook from a backwater town in Ferelden, Mistress Gnoll had enough bigotry to qualify for a membership with the Veiled Heritance.

“You’re mistaken, I don’t know anything about elves being untrustworthy. I do know that if your pot isn’t tended to soon, the food inside it will burn. There is a reason why the fires aren’t supposed to be fed too much firewood in the morning. Porridge will burn over too hot a fire before it’s cooked and the Inquisition cannot afford to let any food go to waste.”

The older woman’s face was red by the time Lenora finished speaking. Angry, but not willing to speak out against her superior she turned and walked towards her designated pot. Lenora watched as the previously neglected pot was stirred with vigour and some of the logs in the campfire were kicked out of the way to make the fire smaller, but no other action had occurred.

Turning to the other woman Lenora observed the still hunched posture and the slightly fearful look. The way that Mer were treated in Thedas still infuriated and puzzled Lenora. Terzia’s small frame, more suited to one of the Bosmer, but with facial features that were more a combination of both a Breton and a Dunmer, Terzia’s looks would have puzzled heritage scholars on Tamriel.

What didn’t present a conundrum was the obviously subservient pose intended to pacify any human in a belligerent mood. Who wants to attack someone who is clearly submitted to you already? The tactic might have been successful with many, but to bullies like Desha Gnoll, who had little power themselves, they presented a prime target to bully and scare until all that remained was a spark of a being shackled in fear. Lenora unconsciously squeezed her fist in sudden anger, but noticing the terror in Terzia’s widened eyes forced herself to visibly relax.

“I’m not angry with you Terzia. I just wish you could have at least called someone when Mistress Gnoll started issuing instructions. I know she likes to say that she has more authority than other cook, but unless I or one of my stand-ins tell you otherwise she is not your mistress. Do you understand?”

Terzia nodded, her posture straightening somewhat showing that at the very least she didn’t feel the need to cower in front of Lenora. She resumed stirring the porridge in her own pot, which by its smell indicated to Lenora that it was nearly done.

“Mistress Gellen has the dried fruit ready to be added when the porridge cools down a bit. The first returning patrol should be coming through soon. Good work Terzia.” The elven girl smiled widely at her praise.”

Lenora turned to walk back towards her tent, but turned back to the elf.

“After you’re done with breakfast come and help Master Brom for today. He has some extra tasks that he’d prefer to give to someone younger than him to complete.”

This meant that for the day, Mistress Gnoll wouldn’t bother Terzia and it would allow Lenora to decide what to do about the situation. She walked away still thinking about how to get the miserable woman away from Terzia.

Pre-occupied, she didn’t notice the man in front of her until he grasped her shoulders to stop her from trying to walk through him.

“If you walk like this in Haven it’s a wonder you managed to get past the Templars in Hinterlands. Or on Tamriel.” Lenora glanced up.

“Oh, Kyrtos.” She smiled at the tall man whose tattoos covered his eyes ended at his temples.

“Oh, Kyrtos, she says when she didn’t even see him. Whose problem are you trying to solve now? You’d think after 18 years of helping everyone you meet on a side of the road you’d be tired of it by now.” Lenora shot him an irritated glare.

“I helped you, didn’t I?” The man armoured in studded leather decorated with bone didn’t seem to react to the resultant frown on her face.

“We met in cave. It’s not the same.”

“I’m glad we sorted that distinction. I’ll investigate to see if there are any caves near Haven so if anyone needs help I can tell them to go there first if they want my help.”

Kyrtos frowned and gave her shoulders a light squeeze before removing them from her shoulders. “You’re not usually this cranky in the morning. What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I just have this problem I don’t have a solution to yet. If this was Tamriel a word in the right ear would be enough, but it’s different here.”

“Aah, here you are a cook. The head cook, but not a friend to Kings and Queens. So you have to think how to solve your problem as a cook and not as a Champion. Fortunately, I’m here as a soldier and together a cook and a soldier can do more than just one cook.” Lenora smiled and pointed at the nearby stack of wood that they could use as a bench to sit on. They sat down and she waited a moment before she spoke.

“You’ve cut to the heart of the matter unfortunately. The kitchen is primarily stuffed by volunteers, aided by a few soldiers who were cooks in their previous army units. There are also quite a few people who help that came with the Divine’s entourage. Many of those who didn’t die at the Conclave have either found new jobs within the Inquisition or left to serve other Grand Clerics. One of the former is an elven woman, although she’s barely more than a girl, by the name of Terzia. She’s a good worker, if a little too fearful to speak up. One of the volunteers, is a wretch by the name of Desha Gnoll. A volunteer more in name than in action. She claims to be a cook, but can barely boil water without burning. She has decided that her skills make her a perfect overseer. She isn’t, but the woman is a bully and uses every opportunity to belittle anyone she feels is inferior. People like Terzia, who are not human and timid are her prime targets. This morning, if I didn’t intervene she would have beat Terzia for not doing the work assigned to Gnoll in addition to her own work assigned by me.”

“I know little Terzia, she always looks like she is expecting someone to hit her. Just fire Gnoll. She has her son and nephew here, both are recruits and like their kinswoman are bullies and useless at what they do. If she goes, she’ll take those two tubs of lard with her and spare the Commander the trouble of kicking them out of the Inquisition.”

Lenora smiled at that. Trust Kyrtos, a former briarheart warrior of the Winterborn to get to the point.

“It’s not that easy. Being a volunteer doesn’t grant me a lot of authority, this includes the ability to fire other volunteers. Those not suited to kitchen work generally find other jobs within the Inquisition. Mistress Gnoll has been getting away with free food and little work and thus has no intention to move. I need to find a way to get either the Commander or the Ambassador to tell her to go. Unfortunately, both are too busy with their own work and getting their attention to settle a small matter won’t be easy.”

Kyrtos looked at the woman next to him. They had known each other for over 5 years and in all that time, this was a first where he had seen her so conflicted and lacking in confidence over her next course of action. The Saviour of Tamriel would have barely paused before she expelled the likes of Mistress Gnoll and her family, by force if necessary. Mistress Varelli from the Hinterlands had to step carefully and ask for permission to dismiss a troublesome underling. This role didn’t suit her well.

“So what can I do?”

“Would you mind keeping an eye out on Terzia? I asked her to be by one of my more senior cooks, Master Brom so hopefully it would get her out of Gnoll’s eyes for the day. One of the delegations of nobles is leaving this afternoon so I may be able to get an appointment with the Ambassador this evening and hopefully resolve the issue.”

“This shouldn’t be a problem. I’m helping Threnn out with moving some new supplies, should give me plenty of time to ensure the little Bosmer won’t get into any trouble.”

“They are called elves here Kyrtos. Last time I slipped in my speech and called one of the elven scouts Mer they thought I was insulting them.”

“Pah, some are too timid and some are too touchy. What did you do when he took offence?”

“It was a she and I was holding a plate of desserts at the time. Any apology goes well with a plate of sweet pastries.”

Kyrtos grinned and got up from their makeshift bench: “People are too sensitive here. Anything gets them too excited and ready to go at each other with swords.” Lenora gave him an incredulous look:

“Do we remember the same Tamriel? The one where the second most popular occupation is a cultist? The same cultist that will try to gut you as a sacrifice if you didn’t worship the same Daedric prince the minute they met you?”

“Puh, at least they weren’t fighting over what one woman said centuries ago! We had more than one God and no one was stupid enough to challenge a Hircine worshipper to a fight in a forest.” Lenora laughed, good mood settling in since she woke up this morning.

“Let’s keep that comparison to ourselves. We work in a religious organisation after all.”

“And whose fault was that? We should have left after escorting those pilgrims. Instead, the Commander smiled at you and now you have 300 people to cook for.”

“I wish people would stop assuming I did it for Commander Cullen. Just because half the women here go gaga for his smile doesn’t mean I made the decision because of it.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Kyrtos didn’t come from a Reachman tribe known for its sophistication. This meant that she only had herself to blame for his use of sarcasm. This of course made her even more defensive:

“I believe it was you who remarked that Dolan’s stew smelled worse than a troll cave!”

“Well, that didn’t mean you were the one to fix it! You’ve been a hero too long, you can’t help it, but fix other people’s problems for them.” Lenora rolled her eyes, he’d tease about this for the next three years.

“Says the man who helps that same Commander torture new recruits every day from dawn till dusk with weapons’ training.” This prompted a belly-laugh from the man.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t have helped and stayed. I would have probably done it to get a steady job. I’m not the one with the habit of helping people.” With that, he waved to Lenora and continued towards the kitchen to get his breakfast.

Lenora got up to walk back to her tent. Kyrtos did have a point, she was too used to helping people with their problems. In this case, instead of killing or persuading the problem to go away she ended up cooking for over 300 people and that number was growing on a regular basis. This didn’t even include the visiting nobles the Ambassador liked to inflict on her and her people every few days. Perhaps Kyrtos had a point, she was too used to solving other people’s problems for them. Once the Breach was sealed, thanks to the man she helped a few days back, she’ll go back to the Hinterlands. Live for herself for once, perhaps travel a little without having to fight through bandit groups or dragon hatchlings.

She reached her tent and took her soaps and a change of clothes to wash up at the lake. It may be freezing to some, but after staying in the Nord lands, she mastered a few heating enchantments to survive the cold with nothing more than slightly cold hands.

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was already late afternoon when Lenora, who was checking the paperwork on her supply levels heard the commotion. Putting the papers aside, she walked out of the Chantry where she used a table to fill out her requisitions to find mages and former Templars, who joined the Inquisition, at each other’s’ throats. She sighed, another difference between Tamriel and Thedas. Back home, magic was fairly commonplace so no one looked twice if someone used magic to dry their clothes or enchanted a few runes to sell. Those, who had more than a smidgeon of talent usually went to specialised academies, joined the Mages Guild or enlisted into the army.

By contrast, due to the presence of the Fade and a multitude of corrupted spirits, mages in Thedas realised their potential a lot earlier than in Tamriel and were locked up in Thedosian version of magic academies called Circles that had more in common with prisons than places of learning. Those that escaped the Circles or avoided being sent there in the first place were called apostates and hunted by the Templars. The breakdown of this status quo ended with the now disbanded Circle mages and Templars rebelling against each other and the Chantry coincidentally plunging several regions into civil war. The Conclave was supposed to be the best chance for reconciliation for all, but that hope vanished when the entire conference blew up several weeks ago, with only one person an unlikely survivor.

Old habits die hard and currently mages and Templars who joined the Inquisition engaged in a new variation of that good old-fashioned blame game titled “Who killed the Divine.” Something made her glance to her left and sure enough, Chancellor Roderick stood to the side of the brewing conflict, no doubt the originator of the fight between the two groups. She really wished someone would get that man out of Haven. Still, she forcefully reminded herself, that wasn’t her job to do so.

A commanding shout drew her attention, Commander Cullen intervened and gave a few orders to disperse the tension. A former Templar himself, he seemed to refuse to take sides and turned towards the Chancellor clearly identifying him as the culprit. She then saw the newly minted Herald of Andraste. A tall muscular man with short dark hair and a powerful build, who was dressed in Inquisition standard heavy armour and carried a sword as well as a shield on his back. Both he and the Commander engaged in some words with the Chancellor, but since both their backs were turned to her she could only observe Chancellor Roderick and judging by the expression on his face, what they said wasn’t to his liking. She was about to turn and head back to the Chantry when the shout from older man stopped her.

“My good woman, do come here. We have a question to resolve.” It wasn’t the most gracious invitation, but the sooner she answered the pompous cleric the faster she could get back to finishing off those requisitions.

Walking over to the trio she stopped next to the Commander facing the Chancellor in front of her, the Herald to his left. She glanced at both, her gaze lingering for a moment longer on the younger man. It wasn’t just his haircut that reminded her of Darien, but his smile, gentle yet mischievous at the same time that made a few wrinkles appear near his eyes that were the same shade of darker green as her dead lover’s.

“How can I help you Chancellor?” Lenora tried to sound neutral, the last thing she needed was for the bureaucrat to waste her time lecturing about the appropriate conduct when speaking with Chantry officials.

“See here Herald! This is the woman whose life you’ll ruin if the Inquisition is not disbanded immediately. It’s her family’s life that’s been thrown into chaos. Submit to the Chantry and this could be avoided!”

The Chancellor was laying it a bit thick, but she saw the momentary hesitation in Herald’s eyes. Lenora had been where he is, where each choice could cost lives and misery.

“I don’t have any family Chancellor. Returning the Herald for execution by the Chantry will only benefit your fellow officials and not the volunteers whose lives had been turned upside down by the current situation. Now if you’d excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Next time you ask one of the ‘people’ Chancellor, perhaps you should organise a patsy to give you all the right answers.” Lenora glanced at Commander Cullen in surprise. She knew he attended Chantry services regularly and seemed to be a devoted Andrastian, but it seemed the Chancellor has tried his patience once too often.

The Chancellor huffed and stormed off, robes billowing behind him. Lenora decided to leave as well when a voice stopped her.

“I remember you. You were in the cabin bandaging my ribs and laughing with Solas.”

Lenora raised her eyebrows in disbelief. She didn’t expect thanks for helping the Herald out. She thought he didn’t remember her, but his acknowledgement of her help was good to hear. He grinned and continued:

“I believe you also owe me a dance. Varric did mention that I should call you BlueEyes. I wasn’t sure what he meant at first, but now I agree with him.”

Lenora rolled her eyes at him. Trust Varric to mention the silly nickname to someone who cracked jokes whilst fighting a Pride Demon. She’ll never hear the end of it from him and Solas.

“I wish Varric didn’t mention this to you. He’s overly fond of giving nicknames to people. I...” She was interrupted by a scream that sounded like it came from nearby. “Help! Please help me!”

Lenora suddenly felt cold. She knew that voice.

“Terzia? No!”

She took off towards where she heard the scream, sprinting at full speed. When another scream for help was abruptly cut-off, both men, who were caught surprised by the abruptness of Lenora’s departure took off after her, removing their weapons from their scabbards as they ran.

 

 

End Notes

  1. My heart gave a very uncomfortable lurch when Darien Gautier didn’t survive that last fight in Coldharbour. It was extremely sad to say the least. There is some dialogue if you play a female Vestige where you can choose to accept his flirtations. ESO doesn’t seem to be prudish so I made Lenora and Darien lovers before the defeat of Molag-Bal.
  2. Kyrtos is a Reachman warrior who you can help by destroying a Malacath’s relic, the Vengeful Eye. He reveals some pretty horrific things about being a Briarheart warrior in his dialogue. I’ve taken some creative control on that quest in my story and will explain his presence in later chapters.
  3. The way my Vestige is portrayed is that despite being an Imperial from a wealthy family, her travels made her a lot more tolerant of other races and cultures. As a sorceress, her sympathies will probably lay with the mages, After all, if she was born in Thedas she may have been taken to the Circle herself.
  4. Veiled Heritance was a group of Altmer supremacists, who wanted to kick all the non-Altmer folk out of Summerset Isles, remove Queen Ayrenn and replace her with someone more suitable in their eyes. If you choose to start playing for the Aldmeri Dominion, the quest to defeat them dominates your main story for the first 15 levels or so.



 

 

 

 

 


	4. Defeating bigotry one hit at a time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the last chapter. Mistress Gnoll has helpers to get her point across. Too bad that some of those helpers come with their own agendas.

Chapter 4

The canvas canopy covered the walls making the original partly-finished structure usable as a warehouse, where wood supplies could be stored. The canvas roof kept the rain and snow from falling on the piles of wood housed inside. The mud brick floor was barely visible in some places due to many stacks of logs, poles and other wooden shapes. This haphazard arrangement created all sorts of artificial nooks and crannies that could be used to sit on or even lie in by anyone looking for a shelter from the weather. The elven girl curled into the nook between two piles of logs, too narrow for either of the men who were trying to catch her legs and drag her out onto the floor to enter.

“Please, I hadn’t done anything. I’ll do what Mistress Gnoll tells me. Please, let me go.” Her voice was hoarse from screaming for help earlier, but no one came. The bigger of the men ordered the other one.

“Just grab her leg and pull. You’re smaller than me, you should be able to do it.” The other man, smaller than the first by a fraction looked confused.

“Ma said to make sure the knife ear understood that she obeyed her from now on. She did promise Noll. We don’t need to do anything else and we’ll get those extra pastries.”

The bigger man sneered. “You only think about food Boll. I’m here to give that bitch additional motivation to obey Auntie.”

He started undoing his belt as Boll finally managed to get his meaty arm into the nook and grab the woman’s leg. He started pulling her, his strength superior to hers as she tried to use her weight to stop him. She screamed again, but both men paid her no mind. Boll almost had her out completely when a dagger sank into his right arm. Since this was the arm he was using to get the woman out he let go of her leg and howled in pain, his scream resembling that of a pig that realises it’s about to be slaughtered. He carried on howling as the other man fumbled with his belt trying to close it before he gave up on it and grabbed the sword that he put on the ground before undoing the belt earlier. He stepped forward towards the figure that was silhouetted in the waning sun at the door of the warehouse.

The figure stepped forward to meet him and resolved itself into the head cook. She stood unarmed, but her face was suffused with pure rage as she took in the scene in front of her. Noll waved his sword threateningly at her.

“It ain’t your business Mistress Varelli. Walk away and I won’t mention to anyone about you hurting my cousin.”

He may as well have not uttered the words as the woman didn’t seem to acknowledge his words. She grabbed a staff from a nearby stack as she walked closer to him, the staff probably intended to be used as the wooden portion of a polearm for the Inquisition recruits. She raised it in both hands, right hand gripping the staff in front of the left one and twisted the staff to be at shoulder height. Then she jumped forward, her right hand still holding the staff at shoulder level and her left hand thrusting the staff into Noll’s chest backed by her entire body weight. The resultant gasp of pain as Noll was pushed back when the staff slammed into his ribcage did nothing to change the expression of rage on her face.

She pulled back the staff, this time aligning one of its ends with her hip and rotated it to strike his side. Before he had any chance to react she rotated the staff again and aimed the staff to hit him between his legs, hard. He doubled over in pain, dropping the sword he was yet to use and wheezing from his earlier hit in the chest. She walked past him using the staff to hit Boll, whose cries of pain had subsided into whimpering since the blade sunk into his flesh. She then yanked the dagger from his arm which prompted fresh cries of pain from the man on the ground. She didn’t seem to react to that except to kick him and then order him to lie flat on the floor. She wiped the blood from the dagger on his clothes.

“Terzia! It’s okay, you can come out now. I promise you, they won’t hurt you.”

The elven woman’s cries had by now dwindled into sniffs as she crawled out of her hiding space and glancing fearfully at Boll, stood next to Lenora. The noise of two heavily armoured men running into the warehouse made her shrink into herself and clutch at Lenora’s sleeve in terror.

“It’s okay.” – Soothed Lenora. “They won’t hurt you.”

Commander Cullen only had to look at Terzia’s terrified face and the belt buckles hanging loosely around Noll’s waist as the fatter man was trying to straighten up before he acted. The taller man, made bigger by the fur of his cloak raised the still wheezing man by his tunic and slammed him into the wall.

“Once we’re done talking with both of you I don’t want to see you and your wretched family within 50 miles of the Inquisition.” He growled at the other man. “Is that CLEAR?”

Only when Noll, who was still gasping from the pain nodded did the Commander let him go, dropping him unceremoniously on the floor. He turned to the other man. The man was still lying on the floor, but he no longer whimpered as he clutched his arm and looked up at the Commander with fear in his widened eyes.

“Who else is involved in this? Talk or I’ll have you flogged!” This time it was Aedan, who followed the Commander to the warehouse with his sword drawn, who looked startled. The Commander by all accounts wasn’t the sort of man who used flogging as punishment. Most military officers in both Ferelden and Free Marches considered the practice as a cruel and unnecessary punishment, with only Orlais incorporating this as standard reaction for theft and insubordination. Still, the big jowly man on the floor looked mortified if his frame, which looked like it wanted to melt into the floor was anything to go by.

“It was nothing Commander. Me Mam just wanted us to give Terzia a talking to. Our buddy Seine offered to distract Kyrtos so we could get her alone.” He mumbled further, protesting that they didn’t intend to do any harm.

Aedan felt bile rise to his throat as his anger at the man, who didn’t believe that by assaulting a young woman they were harming her. He expelled a breath he didn’t know that he was holding and focused on the story the man on the floor was telling accompanied by the occasional stutter every time the Commander prompted for more details. He glanced at the elven woman, more like a girl who had barely entered adulthood clutching the sleeve of the taller human woman next to her. The other woman’s face was a mask of calm, but he could see by the tense line of her jaw that she was as angry as the tall Fereldan Commander next to him.

Boll had finished talking, a loud sob finishing his plea to remain with the Inquisition when a tall armoured man whose hand was clutching a collar of another Inquisition recruit entered the warehouse.

“This skeever tried to distract me when I was trying to watch out for Terzia here. Sorry, little one, these tubs of lards were cleverer than I thought.”

Aedan had seen the man on the training ground for the recruits acting as a sergeant. He usually drilled the shield techniques into the new recruits when Commander Cullen was somewhere else. His name was Kiros…no, Kytos… Kyrtos! The tattoo around his eyes lent him a more sinister look, but Aedan heard his name spoken by the recruits with respect.

Lenora spoke: “What story did he use to lure you away from watching Terzia?”

Kyrtos sent the shorter man to the ground with one hard shove to the back: “He claimed one of the Captains wanted to speak to me. By the time I confirmed he was lying, Terzia was gone.”

Aedan had grown up around some form of military or the other his entire life. This made him more sensitive to issues such as command and authority. Kyrtos may have been dressed in Inquisition garb and Aedan had seen him salute the Commander as a subordinate to an officer, yet he was reporting to the cook of the Inquisition. That was interesting and made him wonder about the woman still standing to his left, an arm around the elven girl’s shoulders as if to protect from any more attacks.

The Commander chose to speak at this point.

“I didn’t give you an order to watch anyone Kyrtos.” He sounded calm, but the undercurrent to his tone showed that like all officers, he didn’t like his authority bypassed.

“My apologies Commander. I knew you ordered Kyrtos to help the Quartermaster and I asked him to keep an eye out for Terzia when she was in the vicinity. I know I should have asked you first, but you were in a meeting with the Ambassador. It’s just one of my cooks, who is the mother and aunt to these two pieces of bravery bullies Terzia mercilessly. I didn’t…know what to do. Again, my apologies.”

Aedan hid a smile, whatever her relationship with Kyrtos, the woman he dubbed BlueEyes was making sure that the tattooed warrior would not be in trouble. Judging by Commander’s expression softening his anger was placated. The old adage, that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission still held true.

The recruit, Seine was slowly edging away towards the door when Kyrtos grabbed his shirt’s collar again. He jerked trying to run from the taller man, but only succeeded in tearing his shirt and dropping a small object as he struggled to get away. Aedan walked over to take a look, finding a small key not far from the struggling man.

“It’s mine! Give it back monsignor!”

The man’s Orlesian accent was strong, but Aedan did detect a note of panic as he approached the object. The key had an elongated blade that was home to several intricate ‘cuts’ that made it look different to the keys used in the Free Marches and looked to be recently painted in a dull grey colour. He picked it up wondering at its lightness since it looked like it was made of metal, but weighed a lot less.

He turned toward the Commander to ask if it’s okay to give this back when slim fingers touched the hand in which he held the key.

“This is the key to one of our smaller storerooms. The one that contains all the spices. No one is supposed to have these keys except the Ambassador and me. How did you acquire a copy?”

The last question was addressed to the still squirming Seine, who bowed his head and didn’t answer.

“Answer her recruit!” The Commander’s voice boomed in the suddenly silent warehouse.

Seine, despite his Commander’s order remained silent, his shirt still in Kyrtos’ grasp. Lenora took the key from Aedan’s hands, turning it over in her palm.

“Hmm, homemade putty. I assume one type of putty was created with laundry starch to make the base to put the original key in. The other putty was probably made with flour and water to pour into the indentation made by the key. Mistress Gnoll helped you with baking it in the oven, didn’t she?”

Seine didn’t answer, but his silence spoke that her guess was correct. Lenora kneeled next to him and took his right hand. Taking off his glove, she observed the burn that scarred his palm.

“You tried to take my key first, probably when I put the entire key bundle down in the kitchen during the making of desserts. You just didn’t know that my keys were warded and you got this nasty burn as a reward. I think you tried for the Ambassador’s keys next, most likely when both Minaeve and she were at a Chantry service. If you prepared everything in advance, you would have needed less than an hour to make a copy. So, unless you are an accomplished locksmith, who can quickly open the Ambassador’s safe, who else helped you?”

Seine mumbled an answer, his head still bowed. Lenora shook her head in disappointment, took the duplicate and snapped it in half right in front of the young man.

That achieved a reaction. Seine raised his head, anguish on his features.

“Non, madam, please! If I don’t do this they’ll kill him. I need to give them that key!”

This time it was Aedan, who kneeled next to the man.

“Who are they Seine and who will they kill?”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took some time to get the full story out of the frightened man. Some of the ex-Templars, who joined the Inquisition with Commander Cullen took the two brothers and placed them in the cells underneath the Chantry. The high-pitched screams heard a short time later indicated to Lenora that Mistress Gnoll joined her nearest and dearest in the cells.

They were currently in the large tent that served as Leliana’s headquarters. Lenora had managed to get one of the older cooks to take Terzia to the kitchens to recover from her ordeal and she was now standing at the back of the tent listening to the higher ranking members of the Inquisition argue about potential culprits. A few paces away, Aedan pretended to be bored whilst listening to his advisers’ arguments. Finally, deciding he had heard enough he coughed loudly to bring attention to himself.

Both Leliana and Josephine looked surprised to find both of them still in the tent. Ambassador Montilyet addressed Lenora first.

“Mistress Varelli, I’m glad one of your cooks is better. Rest assured, I will make sure that Mistress Gnoll is dismissed from the Inquisition permanently.”

The immaculately dressed Josephine looked angry; the attack on one of the people who reported to her had clearly shaken her. Lenora suspected she’ll have a more serious discussion with her superior later. The fact that Lenora didn’t speak to her about her troublesome underling didn’t sit well with the Ambassador, even if she would not normally deal directly with such matters, leaving it to Lenora.

“I’m sure you have duties to attend to Mistress Varelli, we won’t keep you.” Lenora heard the dismissal in the Ambassador's voice. She inclined her head in acknowledgement and was about to leave when Leliana’s voice stopped her.

“How did you manage to have your keys warded?”

Turning to the other woman whose dark blue eyes contrasted unfavourably with the shadows under them, Lenora replied: “I paid one of the mages in the Inquisition to cast a simple ward on the keyring from which all the keys hang and then tune it with me so the ward won’t affect me. I believe Seine was the first person to suffer the consequences.”

That part was true at least. Lenora tinkered with the warded keyring further, making sure that the ward would reset itself almost immediately. That took the better part of the day, but she was pleased with the results. Even after 4 years in Thedas, Lenora still found that manipulating magic here was more difficult than in Tamriel due to the Fade filtering a lot of the magic from the astral plane to the physical one. It allowed for far less precision than she was used to, but using what most in the Mage’s Guild would call battle magic to tear the Fade to achieve results was often very effective.

“You paid the mage?” Leliana sounded intrigued.

“I asked him to perform a service and in return he was paid.” Lenora was puzzled as to why this would be unusual.

Leliana smiled, the smile transforming her from a tired woman, who spent most of her time working and praying into a very beautiful one. She looked pleased at Lenora’s answer, like Lenora had just solved a big problem that had been bothering her for a while.

“And you have no idea as to why Seine was hired to get to the room containing all the spices?”

Aedan answered this question instead.

“Two ideas actually. One is to do harm to the Inquisition by replacing the spices with some form of poison. It’s more of a long shot though, the cooks would have noticed the difference when trying to use large numbers of spice when cooking meals for the troops. The other reason would be a matter of embarrassment to this organisation. Spoil or steal the spices used for preparation of the meals for the noble guests to create the impression that the nobles are badly treated here and the reputation of the Inquisition is damaged. Fewer guests means fewer donations to our cause.”

Leliana nodded in agreement.

“It’s more likely to be embarrassment. The question is: Which one of our esteemed guests is the culprit?”

Josephine tapped her ever-present clipboard thoughtfully with her quill.

“It could be any number of them. I would say Count Villiers or Lord Faison. They hadn’t changed their opinion of the Inquisition even after being in Haven for a few days and are just as antagonistic as ever.”

“Marquis Mollier is most likely to be the culprit. It’s possible one of the others lords had agreed to assist him.” Lenora interceded from her position at the back of the tent. This earned her some curious looks.

“I use a desk when filling in supply requisitions in a small alcove in the Chantry. It’s hard to notice and occasionally, people talk nearby and the sound carries. The Marquis was asking someone with their help in removing what he dubbed some inquisition garbage. He said his cousin asked him to arrange it and it was probably cheaper than donating to her Chantry again. I didn’t know who the other speaker was, but I’m certain the Marquis was there. That overwhelming smell of patchouli that precedes him is hard to hide. I didn’t really make the connection until now.”

“Are you sure you didn’t perhaps misunderstood the Marquis. He hadn’t said anything against the Inquisition during his stay so far.” Josephine looked worried.

“When Kyrtos captured Seine, he said that Seine smelled of patchouli. Seine is not the kind to use perfume, but some smell may have stayed with him if he interacted with the Marquis for a while.”

Aedan nodded in assent: “I can smell the Marquis from a hundred meters away and heard him complain about the Inquisition numerous times. He’s possibly trying to make nice with you Josie, but he an unpleasant man. That of course, could be said for any number of our noble guests.”

“The Marquis has a cousin, who is a Reverend Mother for one of the Chantries near Val Royeaux. She is one of the Reverend Mothers who denounce the Inquisition publicly. Embarrassing the Inquisition strengthens the opposition and indirectly her own power. We must approach this cautiously.”

Leliana carried on, laying out her plan to the others, advising them on their roles when confronting the Marquis. Lenora took this as her queue to slip out and to get back to the kitchens. She encountered Kyrtos along the way, eating a large slice of pie. It was most likely a courtesy of the cooks, who were no doubt grateful for his part in removing the hated Mistress Gnoll and helping Terzia.

“Have you been asked to help again?” He looked at her speculatively before taking another large bite.

“Fortunately, the leaders of our Inquisition don’t require the services of a simple cook beyond answering a few questions. “

“Well, this is anonymity for you.”

“I suppose they had no reason to question otherwise. I’m going back to the kitchens. I’d like to get some food before going to bed.”

“Don’t feel sad Champion.” – At Lenora’s questioning glance he clarified. “I saw your face earlier. You looked alive when you were in a middle of all that action: taking down the Gnoll horkers and questioning Seine. You said it yourself, you are retired and this is not your fight. Let the Ambassadors, Commanders and Heralds of this world right Thedas. You’ve saved our world. It’s tragic that you cannot live on it, but millions are alive and many of them happy because of your bravery. Don’t let your current position of a cook bring you down. You may only be a cook to many, but to little Terzia you’re still a hero. Be happy with that.”

Lenora considered his words. The old thrill and excitement that accompanied her on her old adventures reappeared when she was fighting. It was also present when the leaders of the Inquisition listened to her every word as she reported the overheard conversation. Going back to just being a cook did feel like a disappointment.

“Yes, Papa Kyrtos. I shall be a polite little cook and won’t get into any more trouble.”

“Puh, trouble follows you whether you plan for it or not. I can only help you to minimise the effect. Well that and seeing you speechless when Commander Cullen smiles at you.”

“That joke is getting old, just like you. The Commander is an ex-Templar. He may be fair, but he would still lock up anyone who has magic inside one of those Circles.”

“You didn’t deny that you weren’t speechless when he smiled at you. Men can change when they want to. Especially for a good woman with pretty eyes and good cooking skills.”

Lenora rolled her eyes at the older man, but his reaction was to laugh and give her shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he walked past her to get to his own tent.

She carried on walking towards the kitchen when Varric almost collided with her.

“Sorry BlueEyes, didn’t see you there. I’m on my way to the kitchens, care to join me?”

“I was on my way there myself Master Tethras. We could walk there together.”

“Good to know. By the way, it’s Varric. Anytime someone mentions Master Tethras I start looking for my brother.”

“If you like, although I do wish you’d call me Lenora instead of that silly nickname.”

“Oh, I think it suits you. So, why does Kyrtos call you Champion?

 

 

End Notes:

  1. That got dark really fast. Both Dragon Age and ESO show the prejudices present in their world really well and I couldn’t help but show it here. Inquisition is composed of people, which may include many who would commit to the greater good, but will still behave with prejudice towards others.
  2. I’m not sure about the fight scenes, I recreated Lenora’s staff fighting based on a Kung-Fu pole form I was taught when I did martial arts a while back.
  3. Something was mentioned by one of my ff.net reviewers, Lenora may have been a Champion on Tamriel, but here she is a simple cook. She needs to follow the authority lines as not to get kicked out of the inquisition or be disciplined. Or at least pretend to follow them.
  4. Kyrtos at this stage is probably the only person in the Inquisition who can tease Lenora. He has just chosen Cullen about whom I’m sure many women in the Inquisition do go gaga over. Whilst for the moment there aren’t any pairings, Lenora is still a young woman who will notice a handsome man.
  5. Varric is a lot more perceptive than he lets on. Will see more of that in the next chapter.
  6. Horkers is one of the favourite insults used by the Nords. It's as pointed out by one of the commentators, a walrus.
  7. Skeevers are very large rats found throughout Tamriel and in ESO a good leather material source once killed.



 

 

 

 

 


	5. A question for a question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric's curiosity grows and Lenora finally has the chance to talk to the man she helped. Aedan Trevelyan is not a simple man, but no hero present or otherwise is. Lenora would know.

Chapter 5           

“For someone who met me by accident a few moments ago, you have remarkably astute hearing Varric.”

“Well, I was merely passing through when I heard some parts of your conversation with Kyrtos. I sensed a story there and since we are both going to the kitchens I thought I’d ask you.”

Lenora didn’t answer at first. She picked up her pace towards the kitchens, forcing Varric to almost run to keep up. She waved to one of the cooks and indicated that two servings of supper were to be served. Only then she addressed the dwarf next to her:

“Whilst Mistress Gellen is dishing up I’ll speak to Terzia and see how she is. Then we can talk, but you would have to be more specific about what you want to know. I know a lot of stories.”

Varric clearly expected more resistance to his questions and nodded mutely, his mind racing with a multitude of questions that he planned to ask her. He wished that he brought some parchment and a quill along with him. An instinct, acquired when he started writing about Hawke told him that his subject of interest didn’t just know the stories, but also lived them. Those he considered to be the best kind.

Lenora returned when an older Fereldan cook gave him two bowls of aromatic stew topped with slices of warm bread that had a thick layer of butter on them. He didn’t get a chance to eat earlier and looked forward to the food. Unlike the first few weeks after he returned from Kirkwall with Curly and the Seeker, where the food alternated between really awful to mediocre Orlesian fare these past few weeks saw a change for the better. He assumed that it was at least partially due to the woman that was directing him towards one of the fires to sit nearby.

He started by asking her about Terzia once they both settled on the ground with their food.

Lenora gave a tired smile.

“She’s shaken, but the shock is passing. I told her to report for her duties only tomorrow afternoon. She can now work without the threat of emotional or physical violence hanging over her.”

“I heard that Gnoll’s son and nephew attacked her at her request and that you fought them both with nothing but a pot.”

Lenora chuckled at the mental image: “What a bizarre tale! Have you seen the pots we use? I’m not referring to the ones scouts take on patrol. Even if I could throw one, I’d flatten a dozen soldiers with it, our pots are simply too big for one person. The first part is true though, Gnoll did instruct her relatives to attack Terzia. I wouldn’t have heard her if I wasn’t in the vicinity. They cornered her into the warehouse where Harrit stores his wood supplies, fortunately I was able to use a pole to get them to stop. They clearly weren’t paying attention to their training when a few hits forced them both to scream and surrender. Then the Commander and the Herald came in and the matter was over very quickly.”

Varric got as much from what Aedan has been able to tell him before he went to speak to the Nightingale. Still, hearing it from someone who was in the middle of the action lent authenticity to the tale.

“You apparently summoned flying swords that struck at those two idiots.”

Lenora looked up from her bowl of stew and raised her eyebrows. She finished chewing before replying:

“I threw a dagger that hit Boll in the arm. Hardly a reality defying feat. Have I performed any other miracles?”

“No, that’s about it. There may have been a rumour that both the Herald and the Commander proposed marriage to you, but no-one is taking that seriously.”

Lenora who was about to carry on eating put the bowl down next to her and started laughing. Varric grinned at her merriment.

“That was a good throw, most wouldn’t have hit anything from the entrance to the warehouse.”

The aforementioned Herald came into view, white teeth showing in an amused smile and dropped to sit next to Lenora as she finished laughing.

“I was aiming for his head to be honest. It’s not like he was too small a target to hit”

“Axe, how nice of you to join us. Has Nightingale got you to murder anyone yet?”

Varric really liked the younger man, but he could have done without his presence in this situation. He thought he was making some progress in getting more information out of the woman next to him. Axe on the other hand was mostly there to appreciate the woman’s good looks.

“My time is too valuable to be used for common murder Varric. Closing rifts first, then murder anyone Leliana disapproves of.”

He turned to Lenora.

“You know, both Varric and Solas didn’t mention how absolutely beautiful you are. I’m glad I had such a lovely guardian watching over me.”

Varric mentally winced. Axe was laying it a bit too thick, but he had lately dealt with far too many women throwing themselves at him. Any woman who would help a man accused of murdering the Divine was probably not very impressed with shallow flattery.

Lenora in turn, looked over the man next to her. Lean with slightly angular features and lightly tousled dark hair he looked a lot like Darien when she first met him. Her heart gave a light pang as her eyes continued to look for the differences between the two men. Darien was bigger and had thicker muscle with an almost perpetual smile on his face. Aedan had the look of someone who was under a great deal of stress which lent his face an almost haunted look. She decided to use a tactic she hasn’t used since she was the eldest daughter of the Noble House Varellius of Cyrodill, Jewel of the Empire.

“It’s settled then. When shall we marry? I hear Mother Giselle is most kind to those who wed in these troubled times. I know organising some jewellery and a wedding party will be difficult, but I’m sure your advisors will come up with something.”

Aedan’s mouth opened in surprise. Varric started laughing, barely managing to set his food bowl aside as not to tip it over.

“You’re having me on!”

“Aren’t you doing the same to me?”

Lenora retorted, but she didn’t have it in her to sound angry. She felt her mouth twitch as she looked at the dumbfounded Herald. He gaped at her for a few more seconds, before he too, laughed.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been running around the entire day and my mouth is clearly not connected to my head. Truly, I apologise. Shall we start again?”

Lenora nodded and stood up to face him. She extended her hand towards the Herald.

“I’m Lenora. I cook for the Inquisition and I’m glad you managed to survive.”

Aedan shook her hand, feeling the calluses on her palm as he squeezed her hand in return.

“I’m Aedan and I’m also glad that I managed to survive. I also close rifts for the Inquisition.”

Varric rolled his eyes. The clerics may have been screaming about the end of time and the giant hole in the sky everyone referred to as “The Breach” cast a sickly green pallor on the sky, but the eternal dance of courtship between a man and a woman wasn’t about to be stopped. He politely cleared his throat thus bringing attention to himself. Aedan flushed guiltily whilst Lenora carried on smiling.

“I believe you wanted a story Varric? Any preferences?”

“Any tale of adventure a hero can walk away from BlueEyes.”

It was said partially in jest, but he thought a few lighter stories might lower her walls and get at what he felt was an interesting main story, especially Kyrtos’ reference to her as a Champion. Slow approach often worked best.

“Hmm, I know quite a few of those.”

A particularly strong gust of wind made her shiver and Aedan took off his jacket and offered it to her.

“The beginning is usually a good start.” - Varric offered.

She accepted the jacket and draped it over her shoulders before sitting next to Varric. Aedan sat down next to her, clearly intent on hearing it. He eyed her bowl before extending his hands towards the fire to warm them. She gave him the rest of her stew professing that she wasn’t hungry and then turned to look at Varric for a long moment. Clearly arriving at a decision in her head she offered:

“Well, there is one about the downfall of Bhosek the Bloody on Stros M’Kai. It took a prison break and fighting some pirates to bring that thug down.”

Varric’s smile could rival the camping fire in its brightness.

“If you add missing jewellery this could be a best seller.”

“Well, there was a stolen ruby the size of a man’s fist so I suppose it fits the requirements.”

Varric again wished for parchment as Lenora began speaking about her debt to Captain Kaleen that led her to participate in a heist to reclaim the island for the law-abiding privateers.

 

Lenora yawned as she stretched. She didn’t expect to tell the full story of her adventures on Stros M’Kai last night, but lulled by an attentive audience she recounted the adventures of Jakarn and Lerissa the Crafty as well as Kaleen’s bold plan to steal Bosek’s journal. Whilst it was somewhat satisfying to share some of her history it also meant that getting up for breakfast duty was a lot harder.

Fortunately, stirring the porridge pot required little concentration and allowed her some time to sit in silence as the porridge bubbled. A silence too quickly interrupted by a sleepy-looking Herald whose hair stuck up at odd angles.

“Aah, you’re here. Good.”

Lenora raised her eyebrows in question.

“I wanted to thank you for last night. These days all anyone talks about is the Breach and the death of the Divine. It was nice to listen to something that didn’t touch that.”

He hesitated before continuing: “I also wanted to apologise. I shouldn’t have flirted with you yesterday that was improper of me. You work for the Inquisition and to have my attention inflicted on you when you’re in a subordinate position is wrong. I...” He was interrupted by a slim finger on his lips.

“Now, that’s the Ambassador talking. Possibly with the assistance of Sister Leliana. I do cook for the Inquisition, but I’m not defined by my position. I can and will reject unwanted attentions of friendly or romantic nature, forcefully if need be. There is no danger of you taking advantage of me.”

He smiled: “So you liked it?”

“Your flirting needs a little work, but I suppose it wasn’t bad for someone who closes rifts most of his time.”

“You wound me fair maiden.”

Lenora laughed: “Now that’s Varric talking.”

Still smiling she waved a hand to move more firewood under the pot and then froze as she realised that Aedan was there to witness it. She raised her chin daring him to speak.

“A better alternative than burning your fingers trying to shove firewood into the fire. I thought porridge can burn if the fire under the pot is too hot?”

“The heat needs to be kept constant and there wasn’t enough wood there. You took it well.”

“The fact that you’re a mage? To be honest, I’m a little surprised. In my experience most Circle mages shun physical activities such as cooking. Gardening is still in favour though.”

“I’m not a Circle Mage!” Lenora reacted a little too strongly and calmed herself before speaking again.

“Where I’m from we don’t have Circles. We have academies and a Mages’ Guild, but no Templar supervision. Well, no Templars at all really. “

“That must be nice.” Aedan remarked in a wistful tone.

Lenora looked surprised: “From what I experienced so far, mages are viewed with fear and distrust and the majority of the population views the Templar Order as their bastion of defence against magic.

“That opinion is not as popular as it was before. Too many children with magic torn away from their families never to be seen again and too many Templar cruelties sponsored by the Chantry to supress revolts. Eventually, that discontent adds up. As a former Templar I can attest to that.”

“You were a Templar? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Aedan grinned: “Not staid enough? If you want an ideal Templar, Cullen is probably a better example. I was never serious.”

Lenora chuckled: “Aside from the Templars that had been roaming the Hinterlands in search of a fight, I don’t have any experience to decide whose demeanour is more Templar-like. In comparison with the Commander I would have to say that your sense of humour is more obvious.”

Aedan gave a mock half-bow: “I aim to please dear lady. Now that we established I’m not going to yell “Maleficar!” this early in the morning, can I ask you some more questions?”

“Only if I get to ask some in return.”

“Fair deal. I suppose I shall let the lady go first.”

“If you insist. What or who made you quit the Templar order?”

Aedan gave her a strange look: “You get straight to business don’t you? We have some magic in our bloodline that our elders blame on our Tevinter cousins. My younger sister Evelyn was a mage and we were very close before she was taken at age 12. I was stationed at the Circle of Ostwick where she was, but she died about 10 years ago. Since my older brother was already in the Templar order I was allowed to retire to help my father run his holdings. I suppose that’s the short story. My turn. Who is Kyrtos to you?”

Lenora smiled, sensing that the short story had a lot more to it than what Aedan was trying to portray.

“We met about 5 years ago in a place called Wrothgar. I helped him out and when his wife died, he chose to travel with me to stay with a relative in the Hinterlands. A fresh start for both of us I suppose. He’s my friend, who is not afraid to be honest with me and in a way a big brother I never had. He’s also an occasional mother hen and matchmaker no matter how often I tell him to stop trying.”

Aedan’s eyes lit-up with curiosity.

“Matchmaker you say? Who is the lucky person?”

Lenora shook her head: “That’s another question for when it’s your turn. Are you close with your brother? The one that’s still in the order?”

“When we were kids, I looked up to him, idolised him even. After Evelyn’s death, when I questioned the order he brushed me off. All my concerns about the corruption in the order and the increasing suppression of mages’ rights were dismissed, because “Order knows best.” We don’t talk much these days; to him I’m the washout who didn’t measure up. I’ll ask Kyrtos about his matchmaking plans later. Why did you leave the place you’re from to come here?”

“Tamriel. That’s the name of the continent where I’m from. The main reason why it’s somewhat complicated. As for other reasons: Tamriel was recently embroiled in a war after which my family was dead and so were some of the people closest to me. When the opportunity to come here was presented I came here to stay with Alyx, my aunt. The relation was very distant, but she was happy to take Kyrtos and me in. I’ve been living in the Hinterlands for the last 4 years, with the exception of a trip to Amaranthine. I helped some pilgrims get to Haven about a month ago right about the time the Conclave blew up. I was the only one who could cook for large numbers of people without poisoning them and that apparently was enough to hire me.”

“I shudder to think what the cooking was like before the Conclave.”

“The previous chef was an Orlesian who died at the Conclave. His nephew had started to cook that day, but unfortunately Dolan’s talents don’t lie in that direction.”

Aedan attempted to smooth his hair down again: “How bad was it?”

“Have you ever smelt water burning in a steel pot? Well, I believe that smell was worse.”

Aedan gave up on taming his hair and shuddered: “That’s a talent on its own. One of my men managed to do something similar whilst we were out hunting. Had to turn around and go back home empty-handed, any possible prey scattered in a matter of hours.”

“I offered to help, foolishly thinking that they’ll find someone else in a day or two and before I know it I’m the head cook for the Inquisition.”

“I’m glad that you stayed. Solas told me that your help whilst I was unconscious helped saved my life. Varric tells me that your cooking is what keeps many soldiers in the Inquisition.”

Lenora smiled, clearly touched by the praise.

“I’ll stay on for some time until the Breach is closed. If only because the Ambassador cannot find a chef who will agree to cook for everyone, not just the nobles and the senior staff of the Inquisition.”

Aedan inhaled the smell of the almost ready porridge.

“This smells great. Although, perhaps we need to taste it, just in case it’s not to the Ambassador’s exacting taste?”

“The Ambassador doesn’t eat porridge for breakfast, but I can get us some bowls and some honey to sweeten the porridge when it’s ready.”

A short time later they sat down on a log doubling as a bench, a bowl of hot porridge each whilst a more junior cook took over the duty of ladling the porridge into bowls to be eaten by the common members of the Inquisition.

Blowing some air to cool the food, Lenora asked: “So what did you do after you left the Order and before attending the Conclave?”

Aedan swallowed before replying: “I helped my father with his estate. It takes a lot of hard work to make sure everything runs smoothly. Mostly, my duties were to make sure that the estate was protected. I even got married and had a child. I also made myself unpopular by arguing that mages should be allowed to govern themselves and not constantly share their life with Templars. At the very least for those, who passed their Harrowing.”

At Lenora’s questioning glance he explained: “It’s a test all apprentices undergo before being recognised as full members of the Circle. Not a pleasant one, but they are allowed more freedom afterwards. My wife died a few years back and I took some time to travel around the Free Marches. May have helped a few people. When I heard about the Conclave I attended out of curiosity. Many didn’t think it would succeed, others argued that calmer heads will prevail. No-one anticipated the third option of everyone dying. Well, with one minor exception.”

He raised his eyes to meet Lenora’s. The expected compassion was there as well as the look of someone who understood his position from experience.

“And your child?” She asked quietly, careful not to attract any attention to their conversation.

“We occasionally have very chilly winters. Jonah, my son caught a cough during one of those and never recovered.”

Lenora hesitated wanting to ask more, but a shout of “Varric!” emanating through the morning air distracted her.

“That would be Cassandra hollering for Varric. He’s a late riser and tends to avoid early mornings when we have to travel anywhere.”

“Aah, the inevitable meeting with the Orlesian Reverend Mothers in Val Royeaux. The Ambassador has been talking to various nobles about that for weeks.”

“Will see how successful she was when we meet them. I want to go to the Storm Coast first to meet with a prospective member, someone called The Iron Bull of the Chargers.”

“I’ve heard his name from some of the others in the camp. He is a Quinari, who only has one eye and a bunch of lunatics he considers to be his company.”

“That’s about what I know as well. I better get going before Cassandra turns her morning optimism on me. Unlike Varric I prefer my ears undamaged.”

He got up and ran his fingers through his hair again trying to smooth it. He mock-glared at his companion, who laughed at the attempt. She simply reached into her belt and produced a small comb.

“Keep it, I have another comb and you seem to need all the help you can get. I do wonder why he contacted you and not the other way around.”

Taking the comb he ran it through his hair forcefully: “Maybe he wants to help us.”

Lenora shook her head: “Mercenaries love uncertain times and if he is as good as he says he is, he’s probably already had a few lucrative offers. Yet he specifically asks for you and is willing to wait until you have the time to meet with him. This simply doesn’t make business sense. It’s likely that he has another agenda. I would guess he is spying on behalf of someone else.”

Aedan put the comb into his pocket.

“That’s incredibly cynical of you, but your idea does have merit. What do you suggest?”

Lenora considered her words, unsure if her advice would be listened to or ignored.

“The decision is yours of course, but if he has another motive and doesn’t say anything you could use it to your advantage. If it’s spying, you can feed some false information to his true employer. If on the other hand, he admits to an ulterior motive now, that means that there may yet be another agenda he is pursuing and if you take him on, you should be careful. It’s possible you may need to end a life of someone you will now consider a friend and that’s never easy.”

“Sounds like you’ve dealt with betrayal before. I’ll think on this, your observations have given me something to think about. Advice like that makes me wonder what you did in your Tamriel.”

“Perhaps someday, I will tell you. For now, I will be happy to simply listen, people often forget that their ‘Chosen’ are still people despite their titles or fancy lights on their appendages. Even if it means only giving you porridge and talking about pirates.”

Aedan gave a wide smile. “I’d like that. I don’t even mind talking about rubies the size of a man’s fist.”

 

 

A few days later, Lenora was greeted by a tall man with a giant hammer slung across his back and a small pouch in his arms.

“The Herald asked me to give you this ma’am. He’s also said to tell you it was the latter and not the former.”

He looked a little uncomfortable and obviously puzzled with his task. She took the pouch from him and opened it seeing herbs that would be useful in preserving food.

She smiled at the young man. “Just Lenora please. And you are?”

“Cremisius Aclassi, but most just call me Krem.”

 

 

** End Notes: **

  1. I felt I couldn’t progress with the story until we met the future Inquisitor. He’s somewhat integral to my story. Lenora can’t help but feel a certain kinship with him.
  2. There aren’t any romance options as yet. For the moment I’m feeling out how everyone interacts with each other and go with whatever makes the most sense.
  3. Stros M’Kai is an island in the Daggerfall Alliance story quest. You meet characters there that you interact with at a later stage, such as Neramo and Captain Kaleen.
  4. Given Varric’s love of stories and taverns I don’t see him as an early riser, whilst Cassandra is certainly an early bird.



 


	6. I spy with my one eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lenora meets Iron Bull and the game of wits begins.  
> In other words, being a spy is a lot more difficult than casting magic bolts at people until their die.

Chapter 6           

 

“This one never ignores his feelings about people. One’s whiskers always tell the truth.”

Razum-Dar’s philosophy gems had always appealed to Lenora’s sense of humour. She often found them to be very applicable, especially now when dealing with The Iron Bull. She met the large Qunari the same day his lieutenant delivered the herbs from Aedan.

Since that meeting, the one-eyed warrior did his best to get into her good graces. Her cooks no longer had to fight with Harrit’s blacksmiths to get some help carrying heavy things around the camp; Bull or one of his brawnier Chargers were always available to help with the more physically intensive chores.  He had even intervened into one of the fights between a recruit and a kitchen helper on the side of the helper, which earned him the gratitude of the Inquisition’s support staff who often clashed with the recruits. A gratitude that the kitchens’ more adventurous and unattached women and men took further, which resulted in some pained winces the following day. Lenora on the other hand, thanked politely, but curtly and resisted any opportunities for a longer conversation. There was something about the Qunari that made her uneasy and downright suspicious. Aedan’s message notwithstanding, her proverbial whiskers told her to be on her guard. She just wished she knew what precisely it was that made her so uneasy.

Bull’s persistence to have a long conversation was why she was currently sitting on a bench erected for onlookers to view the progress of Inquisition recruits. Today’s weather was colder than usual so anyone wanting to gush over the physique of the recruits or their trainers was absent, thus allowing her the sole use of the bench. She watched a new recruit lose his shield from an attack by another and a clearly irate Commander explaining how to hold on to the shield for what she surmised was the 20th time today. Other recruits, probably glad that their officer’s attention was not on them bashed each other with wooden swords, only some of them holding their shields as intended.

She felt, rather than heard a large presence behind her that blocked the wind at her back.

“Iron Bull.”

The large warrior inclined his head in greeting and sat down next to her. The wind stopped blowing towards her and even though she wasn’t cold, she appreciated the lack of an icy blast at her side.

Iron Bull sat quietly for a while, observing the field with the recruits for some time before offering his own observation.

“You don’t really like him, do you?”

Lenora turned to look at the male next to her.

“Don’t like who?”

“Commander Cullen. He may be a good trainer and the recruits like him well enough, but I didn’t even need to know his name to know that he’s a Templar. I can also see that you don’t particularly like him.”

Lenora opened her mouth ready to defend herself before changing her mind.

“What makes you think you would know the Commander was a Templar and that I don’t like him?”

“See the way he holds his shield a little downwards? It’s to redirect the damage from mage spells. As for why you don’t like him. I have two theories.”

“Do share.”

“One is that your close relative was a mage and the Templars did something unpleasant to them. Dragged them away to the Circle perhaps or even killed them claiming that they were resisting capture. The other one is that you are a mage yourself and the Templars did something to you. Now that there are no more Circles and the Order’s gone rogue you still harbour resentment towards a former Templar.”

Lenora smiled: “Which one do you favour?”

“Probably the latter. No mage I’ve come across likes the Templars. Many of them are not fond of the chantry either, but Reverend Mothers don’t smite you when you talk back.”

“How do you figure I’m a mage?”

“If you are worried that anyone had seen you using magic, don’t. I do know that for the first two weeks the Inquisition had a serious shortage of firewood and influx of recruits. Yet the kitchens continued to work and cater for everyone. Just before the Conclave, many complained that only the top brass got the hot food, the rest had to do with cold rations. To add to that, I heard that you’re using an enchanted keyring to deter anyone stealing your keys to get into the storage areas. Those who don’t use magic wouldn’t go near an enchanted item, even those who use them aren’t very comfortable about it. Yet here you are, paying for a mage to enchant it and carrying it around without a problem or complaint.”

Lenora cursed inwardly, the Inquisition really didn’t have enough firewood when she joined for the cooks to use so she improvised by using some minor magic until the scouts started bringing in more firewood when the panic caused by the Conclave’s explosion died down.

“Why me specifically? I’m not the only one in the kitchens and there are mages in the Inquisition that could be asked to assist.”

Bull looked at her for a few moments longer before replying: “You’re definitely not from around here. No-one asks the mages to do anything that involves the general populace, that’s always been the Templars’ duty. And most of the time they simply lock mages up in Circles. The rest of your staff are either country bumpkins or those that served on the Divine’s staff. You’re the only odd one out.”

Lenora gave a small chuckle: “Nice to be called odd. Even if it’s true, why should I harbour such dislike of the Commander? He’s the one that hired me to cook and hasn’t accused me of anything. Should I simply not be grateful for the opportunity instead?”

Bull gave an answering rumble: “You don’t need the job. This place is interesting and who doesn’t like to be in the middle of world changing events?  I’ve also seen you look at the Commander. It’s a look that mages give a Templar trying to gauge if they can win an upcoming fight. Pretty women don’t give this look to pretty men, possible opponents do.”

“It sounds like you have it all figured out. I’m a mage, the correct word is apostate I think, and hoping the Commander, who’s a former Templar won’t spot it.”

“Nah, unless you practice blood magic I think you’re okay. Cullen was the only Templar survivor when the Ferelden Circle was overrun with blood mages. That kind of thing tends to stay with the man. The fact that he barely blinks at the other mages means that he’s no longer that paranoid about them.”

“Aah, poor man. I can understand why he would be …hesitant towards magic.”

Bull nodded: “Add to that being second-in-command to the madwoman in Kirkwall for several years and it’s a wonder he’s still sane. Needs someone to unwind him a little.”

Lenora raised her eyebrows in surprise: “Are you volunteering? I don’t think you’re the Commander’s type.”

Bull’s laugh carried towards the field startling some recruits and making them glance towards the bench.

“I agree with you there. You’re probably more his type, maybe you could do it. Might help improve those Templar-Mage relations.”

Lenora tried very hard not to blush. She mentally forced her hands to stay where they were instead of checking if the blush was there. Then Bull smirked at her knowingly. Mara’s breath!  It’s been a while that such a silly comment made her cheeks red.

“The Commander is a very handsome man, but I somehow doubt he requires those services from me.”

There, she said it. Let Kyrtos snicker gleefully at this admission. Not that she intended to let him know about this, ever.

“I may have some reservations regarding him, but Kyrtos trusts him and by extension so do I.”

“The man that helps train the recruits. Very successfully I might add, like he’s fought demons before.”

Lenora stared back at him, realisation slowly sinking in.

“You think that Kyrtos and I are spies? That I’m the mage and he’s my Templar and we’re here to ferret out secrets from the Inquisition?”

It was Bull’s turn to look a little uncomfortable.

“I didn’t expect you to figure it out so quickly. I would have said initially, that you’re both working for one of the Free Marcher states, but I think you work for Tevinter. You do have Tevinter features.”

Lenora didn’t know whether to be incensed or amused. She settled for the former.

“Preposterous! If you’ve gathered any information about Kyrtos and myself you would have known that we’re both from the Hinterlands and there are people there that could attest to knowing us for years.”

He retorted with: “A good operation can start early.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! This would imply we knew that the Conclave was going to explode long before everyone else and did nothing about it! Just because I don’t beat my chest and holler that the mages are treated badly and Kyrtos is a better than an average warrior doesn’t make us spies. From Tevinter no less! Until recently I didn’t even know about this Stendarr-cursed conflict!”

She was stunned when Bull winked, his posture relaxing in contrast to her rigidly straight back. She stood up and faced him during her speech.

“So how is Tamriel these days? My people don’t really have much dealings with yours, but enough people come through to make even the Qun’s top brass take notice.”

So that was his game, provoke her into admitting she was from Tamriel. She could almost see Razum-Dar’s disappointed face to have been taken in so quickly. The Iron Bull was good, scratch that, really good. The pathways from some of the places in Tamriel that allowed people to get to Thedas were numerous enough that someone in authority was bound to notice, too bad it was the Qunari.

“It’s been several years since I left, but which part of Tamriel are you referring to?”

She sat down again, anger and irritation dismissed for now as she mentally prepared for the onslaught of questions.

She wasn’t disappointed: “Varelli is an Imperial name, isn’t it? Sort of like Tevinter.”

She refrained from having to sneer: “I am an Imperial from Cyrodill, but it’s nothing like Tevinter. Just because we both had Empires doesn’t mean we’re the same.”

Bull nodded and asked the next one: “Our last piece of news was that someone called Marco was using one of your gods to take over the entire continent and refugees were about to come pouring through in a matter of months.”

“Your superiors at the Qun feared an influx of refugees? I’m assuming you still work for them despite your rather atypical behaviour.  I would have thought they’d be happy to have potential converts. The mer you’re referring to is called Mannimarco, but he didn’t use a god. He tried to use the Daedric prince who embodied murder and deceit to conquer Tamriel. He didn’t succeed.”

“I’ve heard of the Daedra, weird. Well, this is still a relief. No need to worry about potential world invasion, just local troubles.”

“If you’re referring to the Breach and whomever is behind the death of thousands at the Conclave then you’re correct. Although, local in this case doesn’t mean it will be easy to sort out.”

“Oh, I agree with you there. Still, I’ve seen the magic those from Tamriel use. Mages here are not really a match.”

“If you’ve seen mages from Tamriel, you would know that the Fade restricts us here a lot more than back home. We can still call up some power, but it carries a heavier cost. Now that I’ve admitted I use magic I assume you have a request to make?”

“You’re a smart woman Mistress Varelli. I won’t ask much. If you hear something that you think sounds useful or even interesting, you’ll let me know?”

This time it was Lenora’s turn to stay silent before she answered: “No. I won’t do it and I can guarantee you that Kyrtos won’t do it either. Some people here already know I’m from Tamriel and they know that both Kyrtos and I left after local wars had left us without family. Telling it to all and sundry is not something we fear. At most, we’d be asked to leave, but we haven’t done anything against this organisation and we won’t start now. The fact that I use magic is moot when we already have mages here.”

“Even to your friend the Herald?”

This was somewhat of a low blow, but her talks with the Herald were bound to get noticed by someone.

“He was the first person I told.”

Truthfully, he was the only person she told, but Bull didn’t need to know that. She also could have sworn that Bull looked almost relieved. Something to ponder for another time perhaps.

“You’re right. At most you’ll be asked to leave and my mandate didn’t involve coercing you or your friend. You understand that I had to ask?”

She did. She spent enough time not only with Razum-Dar’s agents, but with other alliances’ spy representatives and knew that sometimes they had to do things they themselves didn’t approve of. This included involving people who had no wish to be involved. Bull intended to see if she was afraid to admit where she was from. If she was, he gained an informer, who might potentially bring valuable information to his handlers. If she refused like she did now, it was no skin of his nose and possibly one less person to want him dead or injured. She should be asking him who else he had managed to convince to ‘chat’ to him, but managed to dampen her curiosity.

“And what would you do with all these interesting ‘information tidbits’ you collect? Do you pass them all to your masters?”

“Nah, only what I think is relevant and the Herald did tell me to run it by Leliana first.”

Lenora doubted that someone as good as the Iron Bull wouldn’t find a way to pass a different report all without the resident spymaster knowing about it. She had decided to let the matter drop for the moment. Besides, her ‘whiskers’ finally started working.

“You know, I think I now see who you remind me of.”

This time it was the Bull’s scarred face that expressed surprise.

“Really? Who?”

“His name was Kurog and he was a tribal chieftain that had managed to get powerful enough to become the over-chieftain of the other tribes as well. The people in his region valued fighting prowess and cunning so he had managed to become King.”

“Kurog, sounds familiar. He was human wasn’t he?”

Perhaps the Qun didn’t get as many travellers from Tamriel as they would have liked. Wrothgar was opened up to other travellers recently and it was possible that Kurog’s tale didn’t reach them.

“No, he was an Orc. Do you know what they are?”

“Oh!” – His face brightened. I saw pictures of Orcs, they have tusks don’t they?

“Yes, they’re also rather fierce. So you understand that to be respected and considered to be a King one needs to be very powerful and charming.”

Bull’s face was split in a huge smile.

“I like where this is going BlueEyes!”

Lenora rolled her eyes.

“You’ve met Varric for one afternoon and you already using that infernal nickname?”

“Hey, I’m a sympathetic listener. You have pretty blue eyes, no wonder men notice them.”

She laughed. Despite his horns and scars and one eye the Qunari was very charming, no wonder a good number of her younger cooks smiled the next morning despite the winces when trying to walk. She probably couldn’t trust him, but she was beginning to like him.

She was about to continue when Krem sprinted to Bull’s side.

“Sorry to interrupt Chief. There’d been some trouble in the Hinterlands so we’ve been requested to go straight away. Hi Lenora.”

Bull got up and looked accusingly at his second-in-command.

“Why is it you are already calling her Lenora? Trying to move faster than me Krem de la Krem?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it Chief, but it’s easier to talk to people when you’re not 8 feet tall.”

In most units, this kind of back talk would have earned Krem a series of whips to the back. Bull just grunted and clapped his lieutenant’s shoulder.

“Sorry, duty calls. You’d have to tell me what happened to Kurog later. He sounds like my kind of guy.”

Lenora nodded as the two walked away. She intended to tell the story as a warning. Kurog and his scheming mother died by her hand despite the fact she liked both of them. Admired their strength and cunning and believed in their vision of building a better Orsimer, but what they were trying wasn’t going to work. The clans wouldn’t have joined him after their chieftains’ murder. He would have started a civil war, which meant recalling all the Orcs currently providing military assistance to the Daggerfall Alliance. This would make the Daggerfall Alliance weak and allow the Pact or the Dominion or both to conquer it.  In time, this would destabilise entire Tamriel allowing the likes of Mannimarco’s cronies (no matter how hard she tried to stamp them out) complete their control over Cyrodill and then use the Daedra to conquer everyone else under the yoke of another Daedric prince. Molag - Bal was bad enough, but the likes of Boethiah or even Mephala would have made it thousand times worse. Bull, despite his similarities to Kurog in both personal power and charisma didn’t need to know that, not yet.

She settled on the bench as the sun started dipping below the horizon signalling the end of recruit training. She noticed the Commander was talking to some of the recruits, the ones that she saw had finally mastered the art of holding the shield correctly and even with about 200 feet distance between the bench and the recruits she could see their wide smiles. Clearly, they were being complimented and would probably train even harder tomorrow. The Qunari spy was right, Cullen was a good Commander. He was also right about her not really liking him despite barely exchanging 5 words between them.

He was however a former Templar and she was an Imperial Academy trained mage and a member of the Mages guild. The very idea of someone training to dampen her magic to lock up her up in a tower, never to see anyone again made her faintly nauseous. Even the fact that the great amount of demons that clouded near the Fade and tried to possess anyone manipulating it had certainly made it dangerous for mages and the nearby population, didn’t deter her. If someone was oppressed, they would be more likely to turn to anyone who was willing to offer them reprieve, even demons with clear agendas. Still, the Commander left the order of his own free will and didn’t go on the rampage in the Hinterlands on the hunt of anyone who may look like a mage. That meant he didn’t deserve her dislike and his past made explained his distrust of magic.

She relaxed the grip on the dagger she was clutching buried in the wider sleeve of her warm jacket during the more heated part of her conversation earlier. The ‘Fang of Sithis’ gifted by the Murkwater Argonians wasn’t as powerful as the original dagger, but it was still potent. Even after crossing to Thedas the dagger sank into an opponent ignoring all, but the hardiest armour. She hadn’t put any poison on it, but it was still deadly enough to silence an opponent. Bull came very close from having this dagger sink into his chest. She hated the deaths and the suspicions associated with spying, but she wouldn’t have hesitated to kill anyone threatening her friends.

The sun was almost gone by the time she left the bench. It was time to ensure that the dinner was ready, distribute the spices and hope Josephine didn’t invite any nobles for supper at the very last minute.

 

 

Orlais, Dragon 9:41, Night-time.

Aedan turned to his companions, finally tearing his gaze from the guards whose bodies were still full of arrows including their bare legs. The woman who called herself Sera and who was apparently part of a group called the “Red Jenny” as well as being the newest addition to the Inquisition disappeared to sell the pants of the guards she just killed. At least he hoped that’s what she meant, her speech was difficult to understand. He also hoped that would improve, because she could be invaluable to the Inquisition despite the uncomfortable realisation that she was very likely to be batshit crazy.

He saw that even Cassandra, who seemed to disapprove of a great deal of things he did these days mirrored the slightly baffled look he wore on his own face.

“That went well.” – He offered.

“Axe, this was Hawke level weird. And I’m not saying this as a good thing.” That came from Varric whose face sported a similar baffled expression.

“As much as it pains me to agree with Varric, he’s right. I’m not sure letting her into the Inquisition is a good thing. If nothing else, the replacement costs of pants alone could bankrupt us.”

“Seeker, did you just agree with me and make a joke? The world is definitely coming to an end.”

“Is it so difficult to believe I have a sense of humour Varric? “

“Cassandra, Varric please!” – As diverting as their spats were on the road, now was not the time to see those two squabble.

“I know from experience that servants are generally the first to know what’s going on with their masters. Having that information before the nobles decide to betray us in action could be valuable.”

“I agree with Aedan. It’s very easy to dismiss servants, but that invisibility is what makes them so useful.”

Solas offered his opinion, seemingly the only one unaffected by Sera’s hijinks so far.

“Thank you Solas. Now we still have Madam de la Fer’s party to attend. At least here we are able to see who are opponents are and kill them. It will be more difficult to do so at the party. Cassandra, I would like for you to attend as my partner.”

Cassandra nodded and then added scowling: “Your most dangerous opponent is the Enchanter herself. Her invitation could be an offer of help or a trap to showcase the Inquisition in the worst possible light. “

Aedan agreed: “I’ve met her about 12 years ago at Ostwick’s Circle. She came for a funeral of one of her old teachers. Every move she makes conceals a political agenda to benefit her. Hopefully she won’t remember me. Varric, you could sit this one out if you want, but I would like your take on the situation. Solas, you’re invited too, but please don’t think I’m being insulting by asking you to make contact with the servants. As you said, their invisibility gives them greater access to private information.”

“I’m not insulted at all, but thank you for your consideration Aedan.”

“Right, let’s make it back to our temporary quarters and change. If I drip blood on the carpets, people will look at me funny when I indulge in finger food.”

What he really wanted was to sit beside a fire and eat a bowl of stew. Preferably listening to a pretty blue-eyed woman telling a story about pirates. He still had work to do before that so he squared his shoulders and stepped out of the alley they were in to go back to the Inquisition’s Orlesian quarters.

 

** End Notes: **

  1. Iron Bull is a fun character, but he is a very good spy. There is no way that he will just agree to abide by Leliana’s rules when it doesn’t suit him. This includes cultivating multiple informers. I actually do like that side of him, sharp intellect hidden by the bulk of a trained warrior.
  2. One of the comments from fanfiction.net mentioned that DA stories are grittier than ESO. Whilst the grittiness is downplayed, some of the things you are asked to do as Vestige are pretty horrible. Like deciding which group dies or cutting out someone else’s heart. DA is simply better in showing the horridness of that decision.
  3. There are some spoilers for the Orsinium in this chapter. If you plan to still play it, please skip the paragraph. I tried not to give away too much though.
  4. Fang of Sithis is one of the rewards given I helping the Argonian assassins in Shadowfen during the Ebonheart Pact storyline.
  5. This is an Elder Scrolls Online crossover, so no characters from Oblivion or Skyrim will appear. After all, the majority of them are centuries away from being born.




	7. Social niceties and shovels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst Aedan enlists the illustrious Imperial Enchanter, Lenora heads home to the Hinterlands to check on her neighbours. Add some talk about polishing of weapons and Blackwall's beard and you might have a party. "Might' being the operative word of course.

Chapter 7

The palace used by Madam De La Fer to host the party to welcome the Herald was extensive, boasting a multitude of rooms connected by a multitude of corridors aimed to bring the crowds in one room to crowds in another room. When Aedan first arrived, the majority of the guests were crowded in the main ballroom waiting to get a look at the Herald of Andraste before dispersing to the various rooms and nooks and crannies to gossip, talk and drink. Besides viewing the Herald, their secondary goal was to take a look at some of the Inquisition members the Herald brought with him. If they were hoping to see someone exotic they were disappointed to find Cassandra in ceremonial armour using her frown as a shield from anyone unfortunate enough wanting to ask detailed questions. Varric did a little better, quickly attracting a following consisting of the fans of his latest book series, but even his author status dimmed in comparison to the rumours swirling around the newly formed organisation.

Aedan managed to get away from yet another guest and her more than ample chest that she used as a weapon to get him into the corner of a room, by mentioning that he had to talk to their hostess. That was enough to dissuade the woman, who clearly didn’t want to offend her hostess in any way. That made both of them, since Aedan was still stunned at the naked ambition the dark skinned Imperial enchanter had displayed. She had plenty political power, he remembered that much from the rumours during his Templar days, but how much of it she was willing to spend to help the Inquisition when she wasn’t promoting her own cause was anyone’s guess. He hoped that he’d made the right decision by agreeing to welcome her to Haven.

Despite his height and bulk he managed to sneak past a few full rooms before finding the stairs leading down into the kitchen. The walls in those rooms may have lacked the gilded flowers to match the rest of the mansion, but he was able to relax once he saw that the servants were too busy carrying trays with food and drink to pay him much attention. He spotted Solas in conversation with an elven cook, a cup of what seemed to be tea in front of each of them. When he started to make his way towards the elven mage a small hand tugged at his tunic. He looked down to see a boy, who was about 9 years old in richly made clothing.

“Are you the Herald Monseigneur?”

He was speaking so softly that Aedan strained to hear him. He crouched next to the boy and put his finger to his lips before speaking again.

“Shh, let’s not make too much noise about it. “

The boy nodded, looking around nervously.

“It’s all right, no one comes down here, and people only go up. Did you really slay the demons Monseigneur?”

Aedan wondered about who would talk about demons to a boy this small. He suddenly swallowed a lump in his throat. Jonah would have been around this boy’s age now.

“Some, couldn’t have them set loose on innocent people.”

The boy nodded again, his face lighting up as he thought to ask another question.

“Did a mage kill the Divine Monseigneur?”

Aedan considered his answer carefully. Fear of mages was always very high in Orlais and whilst they didn’t know who killed the Divine at the Conclave, he wasn’t going to be contributing to that fear, even if it was to a little boy.

“We don’t know who killed the Divine yet. If we say it was a mage now and we find out later it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be lying and innocent mages could get hurt before we know the truth. That would be bad.”

He saw that he made the boy think and was about to end the conversation right there when Solas appeared next to him and addressed the boy:

“You’ll find that it’s often easier not to say what you suspect until you’re sure. Being branded a liar is sometimes worse than keeping silent on a matter everyone talks about.”

The boy looked to Aedan in confirmation and seeing him nodding in agreement made him frown in thought.

Aedan didn’t want the boy to remember the conversation ending on a dour note so he asked his own question.

“What’s your name and are you attending this function with someone?”

The boy straightened and made a short bow to both him and Solas.

“My apologies Monseigneur. I’m Comte de Brazhelon. I’m attending this delightful party together with my brother and sister. I just prefer to stay here to…observe the servants.”

He clearly stumbled over the last part, not wanting to admit that he was probably bored by all the adult conversations upstairs. Aedan smiled.

“And what is the name your brother or sister call you when not in public?” He almost forgot that propriety and behaving according to status was considered to be the most important thing in an Orlesian’s education, at least to those of noble birth. The boy’s title was probably the name used for him in a conversation at a social gathering such as this one.

“Andre!”

The loud exclamation came from behind Aedan and he turned to observe the two young nobles that were the first to ask him questions at the party earlier. They were both without their masks, which earlier made it difficult for him to determine their age. Without those masks, he thought they were no more than 17-18 years old. The boy ran to his sister.

“Perrette, this is the Herald. We spoke and he said...” His brother shushed him gently.

“My apologies Herald. We hope our brother didn’t impose on you too much.”

His tone may have been stern, but Aedan didn’t miss the way that he stood in front of his younger siblings ready to defend them. It reminded him of his brother who stood in exactly the same way in front of him and Evelyn when they did something wrong, explaining why they shouldn’t be punished to their tutors.

“It’s all right. We had a good discussion Marquis. Your brother is a most well behaved and eloquent young man.”

The younger man’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled at Aedan, sincerely this time without any agendas hidden behind the smile.

Their sister tugged their younger brother to her in a maternal gesture.

”You must be exhausted. We called for the carriage to be ready to go home.”

All three siblings executed farewell bows to Aedan and said their good byes. In turn, Aedan executed his less than graceful bow of goodbye and the young nobles walked out of the kitchen. Although not before Aedan caught the boy’s question to his sister:

“Do you think Mama has finished entertaining Comte Deleon?”

Aedan shook his head in mild irritation.

“Orlesians!”

Solas raised his eyebrows in question.

“Even for the Orlesian nobility, a boy this young should not be attending functions intended for adults. Their mother, probably having done her duty in producing heirs is entertaining a lover. One that her older children do not approve of so they took their younger brother with them.”

Solas shook his head in bemusement.

“Some people are never satisfied no matter their station in life.”

Aedan nodded in agreement.

“Have you learnt anything new?”

“Madame Vivienne as she’s known in the Duke’s home, treats her servants well, so for the moment I only have gossip about some of the guests that our Ambassador might find useful. Still, it’s good to make these types of connections.”

“Agreed. I better go and rescue Cassandra. Last time I saw, she was being questioned by a noble who fancies himself a soldier and was asking her a great deal about the care of helmets. Ready to leave Solas?”

“Indeed. I could do with some sleep.”

“Perhaps you could find some ancient battle to explore in the Fade.”

“Only if it involves demolishing buildings with excessive gilding.”

Aedan snorted in response and went back up to find Cassandra and Varric. He managed to find the dwarf signing autographs for some fans and indicated that they were leaving. Varric nodded in acknowledgement, not even pausing in signing his fan’s book with a flourish. Aedan found Cassandra were he left her last. The prospective soldier was still there, asking questions about the caring of one’s shield this time, clearly fascinated with the taller woman. Seeing Cassandra’s barely restrained fury Aedan approached the noble and managed to redirect him to another guest. Cassandra gave him a grateful look.

“I was contemplating many ways of disembowelling that man. There are only so many questions one can ask a soldier about polishing a helmet without dying from boredom. Do we have what we came for?”

Aedan refrained from pointing out that the noble was far more interested in polishing other things with Cassandra. After all, he was trying to leave the party without causing bloodshed so he sought to placate the Seeker.

“Madame Vivienne will meet us in Haven. I wasn’t completely convinced about her joining us, but her connections may prove useful. I was considering stopping by the Hinterlands before returning to Haven. We hadn’t rooted out all the Templar camps as yet and there is talk of bandits near Redcliffe we must look into. I’m looking forward to smashing some helmets after tonight. Are you interested?

Cassandra’s smile transformed her from a grim warrior to a beautiful woman about his own age.

“Maker yes! I could do with some diversion.”

Aedan offered her his arm and together they went to make their goodbyes.

 

 

Hinterlands, 9:41 Dragon

The cart was steady as it rolled over a particularly rocky hill. Lenora didn’t really enjoy travelling in the cart, but the Inquisition patrol members were insistent that she travel with them as the area nearby wasn’t yet safe. She suspected that the sweet tartlets she gave them as a treat a few days ago as well as her cooking in the evenings during their journey was their primary motive. Fortunately, there were only a couple of hours left before their intended stop at the Crossroads’ Inquisition camp so she tried to make herself comfortable.  She was only half-listening to the banter between the two scouts in the cart with her about someone one of them was seeing on the side.

“So, when will I meet this mysterious Eddie of yours Ritts?”

“I didn’t make her up for your benefit. When the time is right and not before.”

“You always say that!”

Lenora smiled, it was natural for people at these times to seek intimate connections to stave off the horridness of armed conflict. Ritts, a pretty elven scout was not the only one, but her insistence on secrecy meant that her Eddie was not one of the refugees the Inquisition was helping in the area.

The cart rattled, overcoming a boulder on their way and Lenora rolled her eyes in irritation before jumping off the cart. Meeting another scout’s questioning gaze she clarified:

“My bones would like to stay as they are, without being rattled out of their sockets. I’d prefer to walk.”

The scout smiled and carried on walking beside the cart where Ritts and her friend were still talking about her paramour. Lenora’s right hand flexed momentarily, wanting to grasp her staff before she remembered it was in a safe place behind her aunt’s house in the Hinterlands’ Outskirts.

She carried on walking behind the cart and struck up a conversation with the nearby scout about their life before the Inquisition and managed to keep the conversation going until they reached the camp. Having delivered her requests to the camp leader to buy some herbs from the merchants among the refugees, she set out towards the Outskirts.

She left one of her sets of armour and some weapons with one of the neighbours she struck up a friendship with in the last few years she spent at the Hinterlands.  Despite her ‘aunt’, a traveller from Tamriel who settled on Thedas decades ago being accepted in the nearby community, she still needed to test her ‘legend’ that she was from somewhere far away in Thedas rather than from another world. Maura and Leniel were friendly and welcoming, a contrast to some of the other neighbours who viewed any strangers in the area with a dose of suspicion. Maybe it was because they were both elves, who had their share of hostility and thus didn’t want anyone else to experience the same. She liked both of them and hoped that they survived the war so far intact. Coming up to their house she spotted a freshly dug grave with a marker. She didn’t need to guess the identity of the newly dead when the sounds of Maura’s sobbing reached her.

She found her friend on the floor, clutching her husband’s shirt, still splattered with blood around the slash in the fabric.

“Oh Maura!”

That was all she said before engulfing the smaller woman in a hug and letting her cry. Lenora wasn’t sure how long they stayed on the floor, but at last Maura separated from her and tried to get up.  Lenora got up first and hauled her friend up, putting her arm around her shoulders to keep her steady.

“When was the last time you ate?”

When the other woman blinked in incomprehension, Lenora sat her firmly on the kitchen chair and busied herself with making tea and sandwiches. Only once Maura drank several cups of tea and ate did Lenora grasp her hand and asked what happened. She had to grip the table with her other hand otherwise, she was sure she would have started a lightning storm in anger. To kill someone for having magic was something she was already against, but to kill someone for wielding a shovel and then rob them?

She listened to Maura, who by the time her story ended didn’t cry, but had a stony expression behind which Lenora could see the beginnings of anger and asked:

“Can you describe them to me?”

Maura shook her head.

“You mustn’t go after them Lenora. They’ll kill you too.”

Lenora opened her palm where tiny crystal fragments swirled around each other creating a self-contained crystal storm and then closed it, powder from the crushed fragments spilling from her fingers.

“I don’t need to use magic to kill them, a dagger can end their lives just as easily.”

Maura stared at her for a short while. She knew Lenora was a mage, but the calm voice of her friend was not the voice of an outraged apostate. She had the same tone when a small group of bandits waylaid Kyrtos and nearly killed him about a year ago. That time she left and came back with the heads of all five bandits, their last expressions ranging from surprise to horror. She didn’t want to ask if Lenora used blood magic, but when she saw Lenora doing laundry in the nearby stream a few days later, the woman’s wrists and arms were unmarked. That solidified her regard for the woman who didn’t hesitate to stand up for her friends, but didn’t make a deal with demons to do it.

“There were two of them. One very big one, he looked like he stank as both his comrade and Leniel stayed on the downwind side from him. His armour was splotchy with rust spots and his tabard was greasy. I could even see it from my hiding spot. His friend was dressed in the Templar armour, but his armour was clean, I heard his voice, very educated, not Ferelden, probably a Free Marcher. He was the one that started arguing with Leniel, accusing him of disguising his staff as a shovel. When Leniel protested, the big one grunted, I don’t think he said a word before and slashed his axe into Leniel’s chest.”

Maura choked a sob and continued.

“They took his ring and left on the trail that leads to Dwarfson’s Pass.”

“Maura, I’d like to come and stay with Dennett’s wife, Elena after I get Leniel’s ring back. Some of his farmhands can look after your farm, but you can’t be alone whilst the Mage-Templar war is going on.”

Maura thought about protesting, but decided against it.

“You know what the ring looks like?”

“Oh yes, I was with Leniel when the jeweller engraved it. Do you still have the bundle I asked you to keep for me?

“Of course. I hid it shortly after you gave it to me.”

Sometime later, Lenora wrapped her cloak around the leather armour she wore, hiding two swords beneath it. She pushed her hood down and took a satchel with some herbs from Maura’s garden on top of the clothes she arrived in. She glanced at the tracks made by Leniel’s killers leading away from the cottage until they merged with the trail leading towards Dwarfson’s Pass. She started running at a steady pace, Leniel’s killers had a day’s start on her. That was the only concession they were going to get before dying. She tracked werewolves, vampires, numerous human bandits and the Daedra in so many terrains that the two murdering thugs with Templar insignia on their chests barely qualified as fair prey.

 

 

Hinterlands, 9:41 Dragon

Aedan blocked the bandit’s rusted sword’s clumsy stab. Whilst the bandit still tried to disengage his weapon from Aedan’s shield, the former Templar used his longsword to stab in the space between the end of the man’s helmet and the beginning of the old leather armour. He barely managed to get his shield, embedded sword still attached, to block the spray of blood that issued from the bandit’s neck once the sword pierced the artery. He kicked at the corpse’s groin to get it to topple over and rushed to Cassandra’s side where she was fighting two more bandits. Between the two of them, both bandits, having already received a number of wounds from Cassandra’s sword quickly died. The gurgling sound made by a bandit, who sprouted one of Varric’s bolts in the neck as he was about to charge the Grey Warden Blackwall, signified the end to the battle.

The big man with a griffon symbol on his armour spattered in blood addressed the villagers, ordering them to take their goods back from the dead bandits and dismissing them from their ‘service’. Aedan used that time to get his breathing under control and received help from Solas in healing the slash to his ribs made by the bandit leader earlier. Grimacing at the bitter taste of the healing potion he approached the bearded warrior, preparing the list of questions to ask him.

“I travel on my own when recruiting for the Wardens. Hadn’t had have much contact with them for quite some time.”

Well, that line of enquiry dried up pretty fast. Aedan rubbed the side of his face trying not to show his frustration. Blackwall continued:

“If the Order does have anything to do with the Divine’s death I won’t stand idly on the sides. If you have need of me I’ll be happy to join you.”

He extended his hand towards Aedan, who was only too happy to shake it in return.

“Welcome Warden Blackwall. We have a need of warriors like you in the Inquisition.”

Blackwall went back to the abandoned cottage to get his things when Cassandra, who kept quiet during the earlier exchange spoke up.

“It’ll be good to have another righteous warrior contribute to our cause.”

“Not all Wardens lead righteous lives Seeker before they join. Some, not even then.”

“That’s not what I meant Varric. The mage Anders didn’t even consider himself a Warden when he blew up the Chantry!”

“He didn’t consider himself one, but the Wardens sure thought he was one of them.”

Aedan signed before opening his mouth to placate them, but Blackwall beat him to it.

“Every Order has its outcasts. Not every Warden has to be judged by the actions of one person.”

That seemed to have settled the bickering duo for the moment. Aedan privately thanked the Maker for allowing them to recruit someone so easily and without nearly as much hassle as the previous members. Sometimes, he reflected, watching Blackwall offer Cassandra a healing potion, a person is just as good as they seem to be at first glance.

Blackwall interrupted his thoughts:

“If you don’t mind, there is a small group of Templars pretending to be looking for apostates, but I think that’s just their excuse for robbing helpless people. There are too many of them to take on by myself. With all of us together, we might be able to put a stop to them. What do you say? They usually attack people near Dwarfson’s Pass.”

“Templars descending into attacking innocents under the guise of doing the Maker’s work? Of course we’ll help you!”

Cassandra was incensed, but she glanced at the Herald to confirm just in case. Technically she could demand they all follow her, but she didn’t believe herself to be that good a leader and their other companions seemed to follow the Herald’s lead. The Herald nodded in her direction in agreement.

“Please lead on Ser Blackwall. The Hinterlands and its people don’t need more bandits, even if long ago they took an Oath to the Templar order.”

“Just Blackwall, Herald. We need to head south-east, it’s not far.”

 

Notes

  1. I’m basing my view on Orlesians on the 17-18th century nobility in France. Numerous parties and extravagant luxuries seemed to be the order of the day for the upper classes in those times.
  2. Not just in France, but in many European countries even as recent as a hundred years ago, once the noble wife fulfilled her duties in producing heirs, it was not uncommon to look the other way if she took a lover. All very discrete of course.
  3. Cassandra doesn’t strike me as socially inept, just impatient and irritable at having to observe unnecessary (in her mind at least) rituals to get the job done. She was raised as a noble and then became the Right Hand of the Divine, she knows the proverbial drill, but most likely cannot stand it.
  4. Maura is the widow who gives the Herald the quest “Agrarian Apostate’. I felt that the grief she experiences after losing her husband is better shared with someone she knows, in this case, Lenora.
  5. The Vestige in the Elder Scrolls Online game has to track so many people and beings and creatures all over Tamriel that having good tracking abilities is to be expected.



 

 

 

 


	8. Burnt toast and rotten eggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting seems to be the order of the day, especially if demons are involved. Aedan gets reunited with an old friend whilst Lenora still can't abandon those old habits of trying to help everywhere she can. Even if it means getting into more fights.  
> In the meantime, Cassandra is giving both Aedan and Varric a run for their money in the comedy department.

Chapter 8

All the standard disclaimers in regards to using the characters from both fandoms do apply. Some graphical violence and swearing in this chapter.

 

Blackwall was currently placating Cassandra.

“Those Templars had only taken up at Dwarfson Pass recently My Lady, the Inquisition probably hadn’t heard of their camp yet. The only reason I know of them is that I helped a farmer who escaped their attack and that was only a few days ago.”

Cassandra wasn’t so easily pacified.

“Until we deal with all the rogue Templars, the scout should have known better than to venture off alone! Even if it was on her own time!”

Aedan intervened, fearing her verbal fretting would announce their presence in an area with a force of hostile Templars nearby.

“Cassandra, I know you’re worried, but we’ll find her. You said it earlier that Ritts was one of the best scouts in the Inquisition.”

Cassandra looked like she was about to argue, but decided against it. She acknowledged his words with a brief nod and sped up so she was walking alongside him.

They were within a short distance of the last known location of the Templar camp when they encountered a worried looking scout whose partner, Ritts decided to see a friend nearby and hasn’t returned as yet. Aedan offered to look for her first, thinking that a possible delay could be the scout encountering their quarry. They set off at a pace that made even the usually even-tempered Varric complain.

It was a short time later when they stopped to allow Blackwall to discern if the newly found tracks belonged to the missing scout when they heard the sounds of a battle, including the unmistakeable crackle of lightning. Even though they had cleared up the rogue mage stronghold before leaving for Orlais, there was always a chance they missed a few mages who couldn’t be reasoned with.

He ran towards the sounds, unhooking the shield from his back and drawing his sword from his belt. He saw Ritts, barely holding her own against several Templars and another armoured figure engaging the Templar who was about to stab Ritts in the back. He didn’t get a chance to surmise who it was, but instead charged yet another Templar trying to flank the elven scout. A shout behind him indicated that Cassandra joined the fray and a bolt into his opponent’s shoulder signalled that Bianca was saying hello in her usual deadly manner.

Skirmishes like this tended to be messy and loud, the clashing of metal upon metal interrupted by small whooshes of wind created by the crossbow bolts amidst the war shouts by both parties. Still, there was a method to the madness as he felt Cassandra join him to the left, leaving enough space for him to bash his opponent with his shield. Blackwall’s battle cry indicated he was fending off the Templars who decided to attack the rest of their small party.

He looked back to check on them, just in time to see Solas striking his staff against the ground, sending a wave of energy, encompassing not only him and Cassandra, but also Ritts and her friend in an energy barrier. Ritts was giving a good account of her sword skills, but she was not as skilled as the Templar in front of her or the other Templar who was flanking her right side.  Aedan managed to stab his sword through his opponent’s armour and used the additional time from the surprise of his initial attack to stab the man again, killing him. He moved closer to help Ritts, noticing with a practiced eye that their other ally was nowhere to be found, but there was no time for wondering about the newly killed as he stuck out his shield in front of the scout stopping the killing blow from her opponent. The man was really good, the shock from the sword hitting his shield reverberating through his left arm.

“Move” – he bit out at Ritts so he could engage the man directly. She ducked under his shield and rolled on the ground in order to vacate her old position. Aedan’s sword struck the sword belonging to the other man. There were more evenly matched now, but he was worried that Ritts’ other opponent would prove too much for him. His peripheral vision showed the other man moving in to strike when a leather-clad figure jumped on the other man’s back and used the surprise to wrap their legs around the Templar’s torso to topple both of them to the ground, the Templar beneath them. A flash of a short sword and a fountain of arterial blood sprayed from the Templar’s neck. The figure rolled away as the blood spray still gushed, the heart still pumping blood through the man’s veins and blocked the sword coming from Aedan’s opponent. The other Templar howled in rage and grief at his companion’s death, abandoning Aedan as his main opponent. He attacked the leather-clad woman, at least Aedan thought it might have been one and started swinging his sword like an axe in heavy circular strikes trying to overpower his opponent’s defence through sheer brute strength. The smaller figure was mostly stepping out of the way of the sword diverting the direction of the strikes with both swords, possibly hoping to tire the Templar out. For the moment at least, she was fine to deal with the tall Templar by using her speed to dodge her slower opponent’s attacks. Aedan turned his attention back to Cassandra, who having defeated one of the two Templars since joining the fray, was fending off a fresh combatant.

He glanced quickly towards Blackwall’s last known position. The older man was trading blows with another sword-and-shield combatant, Varric on his right firing at the enemy archers and Solas some distance behind him, providing a barrier to both and flinging some ice spells at the same archers. Seeing his best option was to help Cassandra, Aedan moved behind her new opponent and managed to get a few slashes before the armoured man turned to him. His opponent this time was clearly less experienced and probably younger, but he made up for that in an overabundance of energy and enthusiasm judging from the relentless flurry of blows from his sword on Aedan’s already battered shield.  The blows were loud thuds against his shield so he almost missed the call to surrender coming from Blackwall’s opponent. It took a few more shouts of:

“The Just, surrender!”

Before the remaining enemies dropped their weapons, stepping back with their hands raised.

Breathing hard, Aedan stood for a few moments before composing himself to address the surrendered opponents:

“Remove your helmets and step away from your weapons here!”

He pointed at a spot that was within Varric’s and Solas’s range. His latest opponent took off his helmet, revealing a face belonging to a young boy, most likely a Templar recruit of 16-17 and moved towards the place Aedan just pointed at. Cassandra’s opponent was a man in his late twenties, who touched his ribs with one hand and walked towards the same spot favouring his right leg, yet another warrior who found out that Cassandra deserved her title as the Right Hand of the Divine the hard way. Both the archer and the commander of the remaining Templars did the same. Aedan turned to look at his previous opponent. Ritts’s friend had him on his knees with a longsword pointed at the back of his neck.  The Templar’s sword lay on the ground, but he made no attempt to remove his helmet or move anywhere. He called out, the helmet making his voice boom:

“Is this what we are reduced to? Having to bow to the heretic Inquisition?”

“La Fontaine! I’m still your Commander and I order you to surrender!”

Aedan looked startled.

“Sebastian? Is that you?”

The Templar removed his helmet, revealing the bruised face of an old friend from Ostwick’s Templar contingent. He was thinner than Aedan remembered, the smile that used to be almost permanently on his face replaced by a look of a religious fanatic. He threw down the helmet and paused briefly, looking at his weapons. Ritts’ friend stepped closer, the longsword almost touching to his neck and said in Lenora’s voice:

“I wouldn’t do this if I were you. You’ll die faster than you can grab your sword.”

Aedan’s jaw dropped in his helmet, which made it a lot more difficult to talk so he removed it to stare at the woman in front of him.

“Lenora?”

The woman stuck her short sword into the ground next to her and used her free hand to push her hood and then her face mask off.

“Thank you for the assist. I thought Ritts was very close to meeting her Maker.”

Aedan gaped at her, but was interrupted by Sebastian. Without his helmet, his voice sounded hollow.

“You stand against us with the Maker-accursed Herald? I thought better of you old friend.”

“Says the man whose brothers kill farmers for no other reason than to prevent possible help to the mages.”

Lenora sounded angry as Sebastian continued.

“You don’t know mages like we do. They’re abominations in the eyes of the Maker! They...”

He was cut off mid-tirade by the blade of Lenora’s longsword pressing against his neck, a few drops of blood swelling up where the edge pricked the skin.

“Quiet!”

Aedan, who had managed to close his jaw from the double surprise of seeing his old friend and a woman he, well, he didn’t know how he felt about her yet, so radically changed gaped at both of them again. The irreverent optimist Sebastian as a fanatic burning with religious fervour and a pretty cook, who held her sword with an ease speaking of decades of practice.

Thankfully, Varric came to his rescue.

“I thought you went to get some cooking herbs BlueEyes. Templars don’t sell those.”

The tension in the area dropped considerably. Cassandra lowered her sword and shield a little, not sheathing the sword in case their recent opponents wanted to renew the hostilities, both Solas and Blackwall doing the same with their weapons.

“One of them was trying to kill a defenceless woman whilst Ritts was fighting for her life. I couldn’t let that happen, could I?”

Lenora’s tone was on par with Varric’s, light and almost teasing, but her sword stayed at Sebastian’s neck. She addressed Aedan:

“This group is part of a Templar faction calling themselves the Just.  I was at their camp a few hours earlier and one of the Templars left behind to guard the camp became an abomination. He was barely coherent and managed to fatally wound his friend before he was brought down. There is a rift nearby and I think it spawned a rage demon. The demon most likely had taken possession of the wolves in the area. They were attacking an armoured man despite the fact their bites couldn’t hurt him.”

Sebastian jerked, the few drops of blood becoming a thin stream as the longsword cut in into his neck further with his action.

“You lie mage! All of you, mage collaborators and mages. There is no place for you in the Maker’s eyes!”

This time he was interrupted by Cassandra coming towards him and hitting him in the jaw with her gauntleted hand. Lenora barely had time to move her sword aside as not to decapitate the man when his head jerked violently against the blow towards the sharp edge of her longsword. Cassandra spoke:

“There are fewer cases of demons possessing Templars, but they’re not unheard of. Lenora, did you smell anything before the other Templar turned?”

“I did Lady Cassandra. A rather vile combination of rotten eggs and burnt bread. That smell was what alerted to me to the possibility of the demon’s presence in the first place. What the other Templar and I faced aside from his old companion was a lesser rage demon and a few possessed wolves. These religious fanatics come from the rogue Templar base from the west of the Hinterlands, most likely their main base. Their actual rage and prolonged exposure to the demons coming out of the Rift close by is what I suspect is helping to turn them into abominations.”

Cassandra agreed with her.

“The smell is typical in the presence of rage demons. Clearly a powerful one escaped from the Fade through a rift. We must close it as soon as possible to prevent further corruption. This will help save these men as well.”

“Do they deserve to be saved after killing numerous innocent people? The reason I even know about them was because they killed my friend only because they thought that his shovel was a staff. Even if they were sane they would have attacked him for possible mage collaboration. I have some of their documents from the other camp, they are nothing but deluded murdering cultists!”

Cassandra was taken aback at the venom of Lenora’s tone.

“We need more warriors in the Inquisition Mistress Varelli.”

“So they can harass and attack anyone who might dare to disagree with them? What about the mages that joined the Inquisition freely? Would you let these thugs slaughter them?”

“They’re Templars, they know how to obey! Perhaps those mages bear watching!”

Solas approached both of them, warily eyeing the two women who were shooting irate looks at each other.

“Perhaps it’s not a good idea to become so angry with our prisoners still unsecured and a rage demon nearby.”

The irate looks migrated to him, but he was unmoved, looking back at both of them with serenity. Lenora bit off a reply to Cassandra and inclined her head in an apology.

“My apologies Solas, Lady Cassandra. Tempers always run high after a battle.”

That seemed to get Cassandra back to her senses as well.

“You’re correct Solas, my apologies to you as well Lenora. We’re clearly feeling the effects of an area infested by demons.”

Aedan broke his earlier silence.

“Well, it looks like the demons found us. The Just, will you fight against the demons with us?”

The older Templar who called for surrender replied:

“Demons from the Fade are a danger to everyone. The Just, fight with the Inquisition!”

The prisoners moved and reached for their abandoned weapons as the rest of the party raised their own weapons to prepare for the upcoming battle.

Cassandra frowned:

“Do you smell the sulphur Aedan? I cannot smell anything.”

He pointed at a spot to the left of her. They were fighting the Templars on a fairly steep hill, but one of its sides had a more even side to get to the top. Several bright orange glows were visible halfway up the hill from that side.

“This looked like a flame from here, but when it started getting bigger I didn’t think it was someone carrying a torch. The smell will probably hit us in a moment.”

“Wonderful”, Cassandra muttered. “If these things have wolves with them be prepared to avoid the animals trying to bring you down.”

Aedan nodded and issued instructions.

“Knight-Captain!” – He addressed the older man, recognising his rank from the Templar insignia on his armour. “Your archer will stand with Varric and Solas. Blackwall, you’re to protect them.  Ritts, you’re too wounded to fight in melee. Pick up a bow and arrows from the fallen archers and start firing alongside Varric. The Captain and the two fighters, as well as Sebastian will stand with me and Cassandra.”

He wanted to tell Lenora to stay behind, but her skill earlier meant she was too valuable to waste hiding behind the archers.

“Lenora, there are probably lesser Terror demons directing the wolves to trip us. Concentrate on them, they’re fast, but so are you.”

Lenora nodded. She kneeled in the grass planning to wipe her longer blade. That action saved her from a shield thrown by Sebastian at her head. It hit Aedan’s shoulder instead, making him grimace in sudden pain.

“Sebastian! What are you doing?”

His onetime friend’s face was twisted in rage.

“A Mage! All of you are mages, how could I not have seen it before?”

He straightened and swung his fist at Cassandra who managed to dodge just in time. Roaring in anger he extended his arms to try and choke Aedan. He managed to get his left hand onto the side of Aedan’s neck, but Aedan turned away, stepping towards Sebastian and brought his elbow into his old friend’s face. Sebastian roars subsided into a scream of pain, but that stopped and he raised his face from where he grabbed it with his hands to stem the flow of blood from his nose. Aedan gasped, there was movement beneath the once handsome face, like something ugly was trying to crawl out of it, hearing Cassandra’s gasp of “Abomination!” snapped him from this new horror, just barely. He felt rather than heard the cold metallic feel of magic as Sebastian froze in a cage made out of black crystal. Lenora came into view, sword forgotten and extended her hands to produce a small orb that shattered the cage and toppled the tall Templar onto the ground.

He looked uncomprehendingly at her, grief taking over his features as he realised that his friend was turning into an abomination and was now dead. Lenora most likely understood his expression, because she pointed at the now immobile body.

“He’s just knocked out to prevent his transformation. Deal with him later, demons are coming now!”

He raised his sword, in trying to defend himself from Sebastian he forgot he had it and turned towards where the demons were coming from. This is when the reek of bad eggs and burnt toast hit him. It enveloped his senses and for a second he couldn’t breathe, much less act from it.

“Concentrate on shallow breathing. You’ll get used to the smell by the time they reach us.”

He looked at Lenora, who had retrieved her two blades and raised her face mask that covered the lower part of her face, her hood already in place. Cassandra stood next to her, her helmet already on.

“The helmet blocks out the worst of the smell Aedan, put yours on.”

That’s all the tall Seeker said as they prepared to face the rage demon and its entourage, howling wolves loping in front.

________________________________________________________________________________

They could see several rage demons, chief among them a large blob of fire representing their main culprit; it has probably grown more powerful by feeding on the Templars these last few months. At least 5-6 large wolves ran effortlessly in front, several wraiths and lesser Terror demons rounding off the ranks. Another minute or two and they would be within the archers’ range. Lenora turned to Aedan and Cassandra.

“Tell the fighters not to engage just yet. I have an idea.”

Aedan wasn’t sure, but Cassandra tilted her head, her eyebrows probably raised sceptically at Lenora’s suggestion behind her helmet. Still, the Inquisition’s cook surprised him with her fighting prowess so it was worth to see if she had any tactical experience to go along with her skill.

“What did you have in mind Lenora?”

Lenora sheathed her sword.

“There is a spell to hold most enemies at bay with crystal. It lasts no longer than 10-15 seconds, but when it ends, the crystal explodes hurting the enemies on top of slowing them down. We could get the archers to shoot when they cannot move. I cannot cast the spell more than a couple of times, but that should allow us to thin the demons’ ranks and kill a few with arrows when they are trapped.”

Cassandra asked Aedan’s next question.

“How close do you have to be to cast this?”

Lenora shrugged.

“Closer than I am currently. Once I cast, I can easily fall back.”

Aedan was about to refuse the idea when again Cassandra replied before he did.

“Do it twice and fall back immediately. We don’t need more deaths in the Inquisition.”

Lenora’s eyes crinkled a little at the corners indicating that she was smiling under her mask.

“I’m hard to kill Lady Cassandra.”

She moved fast, covering a few hundred feet closer to her enemies in seconds. That strange metallic feel of her magic washed over Aedan again, unlike anything he felt mages cast before.

The wolves in front as well as a few Terror and rage demons behind them froze mid-run, the wolves’ paws and whatever passed for feet among the demons surrounded by immovable crystal. Lenora rolled to the side to make space for the archers and Aedan shouted the order for the arrows to fly. A couple of wolves would no longer attack their party as pitiful howls signalled their demise. The crystal exploded ending one of the Terror demons. He saw Lenora move closer and cast again. This time, another Terror demon tried to swipe at the woman, but she managed to dodge its claws and finish casting. In the next moment she was retreating as the crystal sprouted again, not allowing for any pursuit as she made her way back to Aedan and Cassandra.

“The rage demons stink worse than the cooking on the day I was hired.” Lenora remarked casually as though she was commenting on the weather and not about to face a battle with demons, their former enemies at their side.

“I didn’t think it was possible. If this carries on I might consider carrying a bottle of perfume with me to battle.”

Cassandra joked in reply as Aedan tried to remember why gaping in a closed helmet is a bad idea. He knew Cassandra had a sense of humour, he just didn’t really pay attention to it before, his mistake. The Templar fighters joined them as he tried to reassert his comedic dominance.

“Do leave some material for me ladies, no need to hog the comedic stage.”

He thought he heard a muffled snort from the Templar recruit, but then a Terror demon exploded in front of him, claws slashing at his face and all talk was forgotten.

As battles went, it was no longer than their earlier encounter with the Templars, but demons tended to be more simplistic in their tactics and once they established their attacks, they were easier to defeat.  Aedan was drenched in sweat, the earlier hike looking for the Templars and the subsequent battles left him drained. He was fighting back to back with the Templar Captain against the lesser rage demons when the greater rage demon was skewered by Cassandra’s sword. She and the other two fighters were attacking it from all sides with Lenora dispatching any other demons that attempted to attack the warriors from behind. The big column of fire dissipated with Cassandra’s last sword strike and it seemed that the battle was over. Both Aedan and the Captain finishing off the last remaining demon quickly.

Aedan turned to the Templar Captain.

“Not bad. Let’s not do any fighting with each other before the next time. I’m definitely not as young as I used to be.”

The Captain, who had just removed his helmet revealing a face of a man in his early forties smiled a tired smile in response, which quickly changed to a look of horror aimed at something behind Aedan’s back. Thick claws dug into his shoulders, scratching against his armour and then he was thrown onto his back by a Terror demon that seemed to have avoided complete annihilation earlier. It jumped on top of him, ready to sink its claws into his unprotected face when two flashes of lightning sank into its chest and flung it off him and onto the ground, the body already decomposing. Another Templar, the one Cassandra fought earlier wordlessly offered him a gauntleted hand and pulled him up. Cassandra rushed to his side looking for any injuries from this attack and finding none looked at him crossly, the anger at his inattention to leftover enemies earlier warring with relief that he was relatively unharmed.

He patted her shoulder consolingly, looking for the source of the earlier lightning. His attention was drawn to a petite woman in Tevinter style mage robes, who was not there before and was now looking wearily at all of them.

A hoarse cry from Ritts: “Eddie!” solved the mystery of the friend the scout was planning to visit. The mage’s face shone with adoration as she limped towards her friend or possibly lover clutching her ribs. The Captain turned a tired look to Aedan.

“It seems that we’re still your prisoners Serrah. I’m hoping that you will grant us mercy even though it’s more than we would have given you.”

Aedan looked around to see how the rest of the Templars fared. It seemed that the archer had perished, his body lying motionlessly on the ground. The others, including Sebastian whose unconscious body was simply ignored by demons earlier, were still alive, although the Templar recruit favoured his right leg and his companion was examining his arm with a grimace of pain on his face. The Captain, like Aedan seemed to have only taken strain from the fighting and some minor bruises and gashes.

“You could join the Inquisition.” He offered, ignoring Cassandra’s stunned look.

“It would have to be on probation and you would report to Commander Cullen. Also, there are mages in the Inquisition. They do not need to be monitored or watched. You would have to make a vow in front of a Reverend Mother not to attack them or harass them. We could hammer out the details later, but those are the essentials.”

The Captain nodded.

“It’s a good offer. Commander Cullen, Knight-Captain of Kirkwall? He’s a good man.”

“Yes, he is. He doesn’t answer to his Templar rank anymore. He also respects my views in regards to how the mages are treated in the Inquisition. There will be no rhetoric about controlling mages or putting them back into Circles. From what we know of your faction, you tend to kill the mages, start changing that view if you’re to join. I’m not expecting you to love them, but at the very least treat them with respect.”

The older man nodded. He was about to reply when Aedan spoke again.

“One more thing and this is probably the most important. There is no Templar Order in the Inquisition. If any of your men want to join, they’ll do so as individual men, not as Templars. There is only one military arm of the Inquisition, no warrior or scout will belong to any other military grouping. Am I clear?”

The Captain inclined his head in agreement. He walked towards the other two and started speaking to them softly.

Ritts and her mage friend walked towards him and Cassandra, the former looking at the Seeker apprehensively. Aedan looked closer at the mage. A pretty human woman, long red hair spilling over her shoulder, but she was shorter than the elven Ritts.

“Ritts?”

He didn’t question further, considering the scout’s nervousness she would tell everything soon enough. He wasn’t wrong.

“Eldredda and I were just spending some time together. She’s not like the others at her camp. She doesn’t want to be locked up in a circle, but doesn’t want to hurt anyone. We both wanted to have some fun, that’s all.”

Aedan looked at their intertwined hands, clearly the fun went further than both had originally intended, but he wasn’t the one to judge. He also anticipated the noise Cassandra made, the patented Pentaghast sound of both disgust and irritation rolled up into one. Unlike earlier, where she threatened to give Ritts a piece of her mind during the search she stayed silent leaving it up to Aedan to decide what action to take up against the scout. He took off his right glove and used his hand to sweep back the hair that was plastered to his forehead.

“Right. It was pretty stupid of both of you to have an interlude in an area patrolled by the rogue elements of the Templar Order. Fortunately, Ritts managed to hold off the attackers for both of you not to get killed. For that, well done. No more wondering off even during your off time.  Eldredda, if what Ritts says it’s true, I’ll give you the same offer I gave to the Templars a moment ago. You join the Inquisition, but then you no longer belong to whichever mage faction you belong to now. You can give me your answer when the Templars give theirs.”

Seeing the slightly worried look in the mage’s eyes he added.

“If they join, they have strict orders not to harass the mages or treat them any differently than other members of the Inquisition.”

The two women glanced at each other and Aedan had a feeling that he just gained another recruit for the Inquisition. Eldredda replied almost immediately:

“Thank you, Your Worship. If it wasn’t for Mistress Varelli here I would be lying dead on the ground now and she helped Ritts too. If this is the kind of people who work for the Inquisition I’ll be honoured to join. Just please call me Eddie, only my mentor back at the Circle called me Eldredda, the rest use Eddie.”

“Noted Eddie. Then please call me Aedan or if you want to be more formal Ser Aedan, but no Worships please. Welcome to the Inquisition. Would you mind helping Solas with treating the wounded?”

The young woman beamed and walked towards Solas who was fixing Blackwall’s shoulder. Ritts followed after giving Aedan the biggest smile in gratitude.

Cassandra looked at him with a half-smile.

“Not bad, we need more healers and this young woman looks to be a good fit.”

She continued, her tone getting slightly more serious.

“I didn’t realise Lenora Varelli was a mage. Her assistance was invaluable, but she needn’t have worried we’d turn her away from the Inquisition for having magic. That lightning bolt she threw at the Terror demon on top of you earlier helped save your life, not to mention her help with the possessed Templar.”

“I thought that was Eddie?”

“They both aimed lightning at the demon, but it was our cook’s bolt that slew the thing.”

“You’re taking it well. Lenora having magic abilities I mean.”

“I see that you’re not surprised by her having magic. She hasn’t done anything against the Inquisition and her work as the cook has been invaluable. I would go so far as to say that her fighting skills outmatch any new recruits we have so far.”

“Yet you’re not going to ask that she is transferred to work under Leliana’s or Cullen’s command as one of her scouts.”

“Lenora is a head cook for the growing Inquisition and has many responsibilities. It would take time to find a replacement for her.”

“And Josie would probably kill you for taking away the head cook, who would cater for both the Inquisition and the visiting nobles.”

“And Josephine will definitely kill me if I took away the head cook that caters to both Inquisition and the visiting nobles.”

They shared a smile. Their ambassador was a highly skilled diplomat and one of the nicest people they both ever had to come across. Yet she could make you feel so guilty for disappointing her that you would do everything in your power to please her again.

Lenora came up to both of them. She was holding a satchel in one hand and a stack of papers in the other.

“These are the documents I found at their camp not far from here. It has the map of what I assume is their main base. I estimate there may be another 20 or so rogue Templars from the Just faction at that camp. I could take you to the temporary one if you like. One of the bodies there needs to be buried.”

Cassandra spoke before Aedan again.

“Did they really kill your friend because they thought his shovel was a staff?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Neither he nor his wife are mages. The Templar who became an abomination was too far gone in the rage demon’s influence to see reason. Unfortunately, his friend was only marginally better. Even with these Templars, there is a difference between when I stumbled upon some of them attacking Ritts and Eddie and now. We were not fighting long before you arrived and then the entire Templar party was engaged.”

“Good thing you happened across when you did no matter how foolhardy it was.”

Aedan wasn’t sure, but somehow the idea of Lenora fighting didn’t mesh in the opinion he formed of her before. It was almost like he was looking at two different women. Then again, her pirate stories did feature her helping others, but he assumed that she using her magic for that. He was still annoyed at her stupidity at attacking a full party of trained warriors, all three women could have been easily killed. He was about to remind her of that when she spoke again.

“I was trying to cause enough of a distraction for Ritts to disengage. Eddie was severely wounded and was about to be killed by a Templar when I intervened. If I could not help rescue Ritts I was planning to grab Eddie and get her out of there.”

“You would have abandoned Ritts to die?” Cassandra sounded surprised.

“Ritts would not have lasted long against Aedan’s old friend. I could not assist her since I had to fight off at least two Templars just to stay alive myself. If she had died, I wouldn’t have carried on fighting. This may sound harsh, but at least I would have saved one of them.”

Aedan realised her point as he spoke.

“She’s right Cassandra.  You or I would have made the same decision in her place. Many would simply abandon them both to die.”

“You’re right Aedan and you did well Lenora and now both women are safe. It does leave me with a question of how you learned to fight like that, especially since you’re a mage.”

“Where I’m from, the mages are not forced into Circles and nothing prevents us from learning to fight without magic. I spent a good portion of my life as a mercenary, you learn to fight better than your opponent or you die.”

Cassandra was about to ask something else when the Templars approached them. All three wore an apprehensive look. The Captain addressed him first.

“When we joined the Just we thought we’d make a difference in the world where mages run amok and create untold chaos and suffering. We believed that by killing them we’d be making the world a safer place for everyone. Instead we see that we’re just as vulnerable to corruption by demons as the mages.  If we are viewed as oppressors than we are not better than those we’re trying to destroy. We see that the Inquisition is probably the only organisation bringing order to the world right now and whilst letting the mages unchecked within the Inquisition does not sit well with us, we’ll abide by the Inquisition’s rules. We will join as individuals, not as members of the Templar Order. We just ask that Knight-Lieutenant Sebastian La Fontaine be offered the same offer as us, if he doesn’t become an abomination. If he does succumb to the demon’s corruption, then all we could ask is that the abomination would be dealt with swiftly.”

He stopped, clearly uncomfortable with how to proceed. Aedan offered him an out.

“State your name and former rank and pledge your loyalty to obey the Inquisition’s rules and its leaders. For now you’ll report to Lady Cassandra and I. Once we get back to Haven you’ll be reporting to Commander Cullen.”

The former Knight-Captain Errol Morrisey and the Templar recruit Galen Thom were both from the Markham circle, whilst Ser Adrien Montel was stationed at the White Spire when the mages voted to disband the Circles. Both Varric and Solas, Aedan noted to himself, were observing the newly minted members of the Inquisition with a measure of amusement. Well, at least Varric was, openly grinning at each pledge. Solas on the other hand was as stoic as always, but Aedan though he detected a trace of a smile when Galen stumbled over his pledge earlier. He thought he could guess the source, he offered a similar deal to the more reasonable of the rogue mages in several conflicts a few weeks back and in some cases it was accepted. Fortunately, the first meeting between former enemies was Cassandra’s headache, not his and he tried not to grin lest he incur her irritation.

It took another half an hour at least to get everyone all patched up enough so they could walk to the nearest Inquisition camp. They rigged a makeshift gurney for Sebastian to be transported to Haven where Solas and the other mages could determine if there was any chance to remove the demonic corruption. It was only when Errol Morrisey brought up the matter that Aedan remembered that he wasn’t done.

“Ser Aedan, do you think we could meet the Herald of Andraste? Is it true that he alone can close rifts?”

He could have smacked himself for the oversight. He removed his left gauntlet to show the Mark glowing bright green.

“You’ve met him. This reminds me, there is still a rift nearby I must close. Would anyone want to come with?”

He tried not to grin too widely when Galen’s hand shot up above his head like he was still in the classroom waiting to be chosen so he could give the right answer.

 

Notes:

  1. This was a long chapter, especially with the fight scenes. This chapter was rewritten at least once until I was satisfied with it. Next chapter will reveal the reaction of other members of the Inquisition to Lenora’s magic as well as the story of how she got Leniel’s ring back from the Templars.
  2. I combined several Hinterlands quests in this chapter. I know that Ritts’ lover is dead in the game, not to mention being an elf, but I liked the idea that the more radical factions of mages and Templars would still have some people who could be reasoned with.
  3. The Just Templar faction in the game has several letters you could read in addition to the location of the main Templar camp. The letters spew such unreasonable hatred and bigotry that it gave me pause. Still, this is a magical world and what if the additional explosion of this hatred and anger was at least partly from being exposed to beings whose very existence is created by rage, such as a rage demon. Templar possession was not unheard of in Dragon Age 2.
  4. The temptation of Lenora sweeping through the fight with the same level of power and panache the Vestige can execute in ESO was definitely there. Except Lenora is not as powerful here, in game terms, like Aedan, she started off at first level since coming to Thedas. There are additional reasons as well, but for now, she’s a far cry from the powerhouse that left Nirn. She’ll just have to experience more in order to fully realise her previous fighting expertise, both as a magic user and a dual-wield fighter.
  5. Somehow I don’t think Lenora wanted to advertise her mage status in Thedas no matter what she thinks of the popular view of mages. Leather armour on the other hand is common enough not to attract too much notice. I was thinking the Thieves’ Guild armour with all the extra straps for throwing knives and it’s quiet enough to track enemies without making alerting them to your presence.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Closing rifts and more demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lenora remembers how she got her friend's ring back and meets a familiar face.  
> She also finds out why no one will take her job.

Chapter 9

This seems to become the norm lately - some violence and swearing in this chapter. All the disclaimers in regards to both Dragon Age and Elder Scrolls Online apply.

 

“A cook? Just a cook?!”

Blackwalls’ incredulous voice alerted the nearby fennecs to get away as the small group started making their way down the hill.

“Well, I’m the head cook if that makes you feel any better.”

Lenora tried not to smile. Blackwall politely introduced himself as they prepared to leave with Aedan to close a rift. He was probably expecting Lenora to be introduced as one of the senior scouts for the Inquisition, but learning that she was a cook he had some difficulty to consolidate the image of a warrior he saw earlier and what he imagined to be a placid woman beside a cooking fire. He was still having troubles with it as evidenced 10 minutes later by repeating her job title again. Varric, who volunteered to go with Aedan and the new Inquisition recruit, formerly a member of the Just Templar faction, a young man by the name of Galen to close the rift at Dwarfson Pass rolled his eyes good naturedly.

“Don’t worry Hero. Lenora is a great cook. Her vegetable tarts are delicious.”

“Especially the radish tartlets. Do you know when we’ll have those again?”

Aedan chipped in partially to quiet Blackwall and partially to find out about the upcoming menu. Since leaving Orlais their dry rations were not to his taste.

“It all depends if the scouts negotiated a fresh batch of vegetables to be delivered to Haven. We don’t only rely on donations from nobles and rich merchants, but with so much conflict in the nearby areas acquiring food in large numbers is difficult.”

Blackwall sighed:

“I’m sorry Mistress Varelli. I should be the last person to judge someone based on their profession. It seems startling, no offence meant. Please call me Blackwall.”

“None taken. I wasn’t always a cook. Please call me Lenora.”

They finished their descent from the hill where they fought the greater rage demon previously.  The rift that spawned it looked small and were it not for the bright green pulse around its edges, it would not be noticeable. Aedan raised his left hand and pointed it at the rift. The energy from the Mark extended from his hand and connected to the rift beginning a loud vibration that ascended in pitch as the rift started getting smaller. A burst of energy hit him, making him stumble back and breaking the Mark’s connection to the rift as two wraiths floated toward him. It seemed that the rage demon left behind some guardians for the rift, intending to come back once both the Inquisition and the Templars were killed. Aedan unsheathed his sword, but with only two opponents his help wasn’t required. A crossbow bolt embedded itself into one of the wraiths, who despite their wispy appearance were just as solid as any other demon and Blackwall chopped off what looked to be its head. A lightning bolt streaked towards the other wraith, dismantling its form permanently. Aedan turned to see Lenora’s hand outstretched towards the now defunct enemy, he didn’t comment on this, but raised his hand again and this time the pitch reached its crescendo and then went silent as the rift disappeared.

The former Templar recruit gaped at where the rift used to be and then at Lenora.

“You’re a mage, but you fight with a sword?”

This time it was Lenora’s turn to roll her eyes.

“I believe we established that earlier. Whatever helps kill the enemy, whether it’s pulled from the Fade or delivered with sharp steel.”

Galen wanted to say something else, but his attention was diverted by seeing Aedan pick up some of the demon essence from the spot over which the rift was formed. Aedan pre-empted the question by responding:

“We collect leftover demon essence and have researchers at the Inquisition find out what is the best way to kill the demon from which the residue was collected. Some are easy, such as countering the rage demons with ice, but recently we learnt that if the ice is aimed at the top part of a lesser rage demon it stuns them faster and thus makes them easier to kill. We have a lovely lady by the name of Minaeve fulfilling that role.”

Galen nodded, clearly the last few hours were a lot to take in. He turned to Lenora again.

“You said that one of the Templars became an abomination M’am.  Which Templar was it, Ser Astor or Ser Gill? Can you please tell me what happened?”

Lenora stared at the boy, whilst tall and seemingly confident in battle his movements outside combat were a little gawky and his earnestness was almost endearing. Choosing what to say would be tricky, Galen shared his last few months with those Templars and despite joining the Inquisition, probably had some leftover loyalty, at least to the people in that particular camp.

“It was the tall large Templar with a great sword instead of a sword and shield. When he attacked me, his colleague tried to stop him, but that only seemed to enrage him further. It came as a surprise to both of us when he transformed into an abomination.”

“That was Ser Astor. He was being very quiet of late and more zealous than usual.”

“If by zealousness you refer to plain murder and robbery, than yes, he was extremely zealous.”

She didn’t mean to sound bitter and couldn’t even blame the teenager in front of her. He was brought into this without fully realising what being part of a group such as the Just entailed. He was simply too young to fully understand the implications of the war and the history between both Mages and Templars driving it to the mess of armed conflicts currently gripping a large portion of Thedas.

Aedan intervened, sensing that it might be easier to stick to the general details.

“Did you know the murdered farmer well?”

“Yes, both him and his wife, Maura were good friends ever since I started living in the Hinterlands. They moved here from Denerim after the Blight ended. Their youngest child died during the unrests in the Alienage. They thought they’d be free of the violence of the city here.”

Galen looked uncomfortable, it’s one thing to smite believing you’re on the path of righteousness and quite another to find out your friends killed a farmer over a petty dispute. Varric tried to fill the silence by asking:

“Why would you go after those two Templars? I know you can handle yourself, but you could have let us know and we would have dealt with it.”

Lenora stared at him in a stunned surprise. She was so used to handling what was needed on her own that someone she didn’t know very well could offer their help was strange and…nice. He may not have known this, but Varric Tethras was firmly put into the friends’ category and this is something she rarely did.

“To be honest, the idea never occurred to me. The Templars took Leniel’s wedding ring from his body. It would have probably been sold off for a few gold, but to Maura and her husband these rings represented more than two decades together. I couldn’t bring back Leniel, but returning the ring would help Maura with her grief.”

“Next time, just let us know. Josie will kill me if anything were to happen to you.”

Aedan might have been said this in partial jest, but his tone indicated that he wouldn’t have been unaffected if anything were to happen to her. As if a few Templars and a couple of demons were a problem. Still, they didn’t know her history and it was good to hear that she mattered. She settled for a slightly jesting tone in response.

“I believe the last recommended replacement, M. Chalnnon when reading about the work required wrote a very firm rejection of the offer. The Ambassador was less than pleased.”

At Blackwall’s questioning look she clarified:

“I’m only here temporarily, until the Ambassador can find me a replacement. Despite the possible prestige offered by being the head cook of the Inquisition, they weren’t many takers.”

Varric snorted.

“That’s a polite way to describe having to organise 30 to 40 people to cook over an open fire for several hundred people of the Inquisition plus more complex dishes for the visiting nobles. Ruffles just doesn’t want to lose you so she has been writing to the snootiest chefs in both Orlais and Antiva knowing full well they won’t take the job. Sorry BlueEyes, you’re a lot more indispensable than you think.”

She went silent at this revelation. She hated to be duped, to be used unknowingly. This reminded her of the first few months since escaping Coldharbour with the Prophet. She only knew her name and the basics of how to wield her staff. She had no memory of who she was, Tamriel in general or anything that reminded her that she was not just a weapon created by Nirn to fight Molag-Bal. During those days she was no better than a weapon to be pointed in the direction of an enemy and she used to hope that the people who did so were on the right side. This particular revelation she should have expected and despite the praise and the trust this showed she would have preferred to be dealt with honestly. Still, it was nice to be appreciated for something other than knowing how to destroy enemy camps and Daedric princes. She grinned:

“I would appreciate if you didn’t let the Ambassador know that I know of her…ruse. It’s very kind of her to think of me so well even if she has not let me know of it herself.”

Aedan winced, but Josie wasn’t here to lay a guilt trip on him for saying this.

“She meant well, but I think she doesn’t quite know how to deal with you yet. You’re clearly not in the Inquisition for the money and most certainly not for the prestige. If you were to leave she wouldn’t know how to get you to stay.”

Lenora raised an unbelieving eyebrow.

“I know that the Ambassador meant well. Still, perhaps a request to be transferred to be under Leliana’s command would do well to remind her to show her appreciation to me and my people every so often.”

Varric started laughing. Both Galen and Blackwall, who were following the exchange about people they never met looked more puzzled than before.

“Only if I get to be nearby when you do so BlueEyes.”

Aedan chuckled along and Lenora’s smile became a little wider.

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you out of it dear writer.”

This prompted more laughter from Varric as they turned back towards where they left the others. Aedan and Blackwall were leading the way. Galen was treating Lenora with an odd mixture of respect and a little bit of fear walked with both her and Varric at the back. He started asking Varric a question which prompted a prolonged reply. She was glad to be left alone as she remembered her earlier fight.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few hours earlier.

Lenora was just on the edge of the clearing that served as a camp to a Templar group. Judging by the amount of the empty tents, there were about 12 people residing in the camp. Currently there were only two. She recognised Leniel’s killer from Maura’s description. It looked like he did not clean his armour for some time and the slightly vacant look she spotted when he was walking in her general direction where she sat hidden in the trees. From the Templars she saw join the Inquisition, the cleaning of their armour as well as keeping themselves presentable was ingrained in their training. To abandon it so quickly meant something wasn’t right and the suddenly sharp smell of bad eggs confirmed that there was a presence of a demon nearby. Possibly a rage demon as she turned her nose away from a sudden add-on of a burnt toast smell into the air. The Templar wasn’t close enough to her so she could slit his throat in one motion and his compatriot, whilst affected would most likely notice the fountain of blood that would result from cutting his friend’s throat. She could fight and kill both of them easily enough, but there was a possibility that the rest of the Templars could come back at any moment. Fighting more than 2-3 armoured warriors could prove risky. She stepped back a few steps and thought of another approach.

Approaching the Templars as a native of the Hinterlands, ‘accidently’ coming across the Templar camp could work. She could stumble around in pretend embarrassment and cut both their purses without them noticing. She could come back later to kill them. Right now, getting back the wedding ring back to Maura was the most important thing. She could always kill them later. She shook her head ruefully, a while back it was the kill that was the most important part and she was glad it was no longer the case.

Wrapping the cloak she kept in her satchel around her, she covered her entire armour, pushing the hood back and hiding the mask. She half-opened the satchel so the herbs inside would be visible to the naked eye and stepped back silently.

Making some noise she stepped into the clearing, pretending to dig around her satchel for something. Both Templars started to approach her and she made an audible gasp as she ‘saw’ them for the first time.

“My apologies sers, I didn’t realise it was your camp.”

She started turning back when one of them stepped closer, the other Templar that Maura said started to argue with Leniel grasped her hand almost painfully.

“Who are you? How did you find us? Did the mages send you?”

He was probably not possessed, but the maniacal gleam of his eyes contrasted with the educated tone of his voice.

“No Ser Templar. I was gathering some cooking herbs for the meat my husband got. I didn’t even know that you were here. There is a lot of herbs growing around here and our home was destroyed. I thought to flavour the meat with the wild mint.”

He snatched the satchel out of her hands to inspect it.  Lenora waited patiently for him to find the collection of sage, rosemary and mint and some food, but nothing that would link her to any group that might prove a danger to this camp. Clearly disappointed, he was about to give back the satchel when the bigger Templar approached them. The man stank of unwashed armour and body odour. Lenora saw the multitude of rust splotches on his breastplate. He didn’t say, but rather drew out the syllables to her:

“Maage…”

Clearly taken aback she cautiously stepped away from him.

“Those were just cooking herbs, honest!” The surprise at seeing the other Templar so far under the influence of a demon was genuine.

The other Templar’s judgement was also clouded. Instead of backing away from his comrade he started arguing.

“You said that about the other man,but he had nothing except a shovel. She only has some cooking herbs!”

His words fell on deaf ears. The other man didn’t walk as much as amble towards Lenora.

“Maage…”

Faster than she thought possible the great sword swung into her direction. She’s was anticipating the possibility of an attack and rolled to the side avoiding the swing. The other Templar threw out his shield to meet the next one, the metal of the sword ringing against the large shield.

“I command you Ser to lower your weapon. The Just don’t fight with cooks, only mages.”

The larger man groaned, his lips no longer forming the words and swung at the shield again.  His features contorted as something ugly and large tried to get out. He roared, the metal armour splitting as the hulking figure of what Lenora presumed to be an abomination appeared where the warrior previously stood. The other Templar froze in horror.

Throwing aside her cloak Lenora drew her weapons.

“Move, unless you want him to end you. To the left, NOW!”

Some sort of instinct to obey the order must have remained as the man moved, just as the talons of the thing swiped at the same place he stood at a split second earlier.

Wolves’ howling sounded in the near distance as the smell of bad eggs intensified and Lenora spotted a few forms coming from the other end of the camp.

“Arkay’s beard! The thing has reinforcements! Move to my side if you want to live Templar.”

The man backtracked towards her, shield up scanning their new opponents and the abomination.

The howling got louder and the smell of a badly cooked breakfast became almost unbearable. Lenora past experience kicked in, once she was over the surprise at seeing a man turn into an abomination and she issued some commands.

“You can engage the abomination, I’ll keep the wolves and the rage demon at bay. Once they’re dead I’ll help you kill this thing.”

The man’s battle instincts had already kicked and he barely nodded in her direction in acknowledgement and charged the abomination. Lenora ran towards the three wolves noticing the bright orange glow of the lesser rage demon gliding towards them at a slower pace. She swore to herself, her old staff would have come in handy right about now. Whilst her swords were enchanted, channeling power through them for some of the spells was not nearly as effective as the staff. She had nothing else on hand so extending one of the swords she waved it in a circle pointing at the wolves. Lightning splashed all around the animals, stopping them in their tracks. She sprinted into the affected area and started attacking them. She made short work of the wolves and then looked around to see that the Templar was barely holding against his old friend, but she still had one more enemy before she could help him.

The demon stopped just outside her lightning circle. It shot some fire at her and she felt the heat go past her armour. Fortunately, her old Thieves Guild uniform had some fire protection and she shrugged the heat off by jumping at the thing with both swords. It was clearly not happy to be fighting this close, probably counting on the wolves to keep her at bay longer, but its long claws gave it an advantage against Lenora. It took a few more minutes to defeat the thing and by the time she struck the final blow she heard a scream. Rolling away from the smouldering pile that used to be the lesser rage demon she glanced towards the other fight. The claws of the abomination tore into the armour leaving wide gashes across the chest and stomach. She knew that if the Templar wasn’t dead, he was dying. This left her and abomination alone.

It towered over the Templar ready to finish him off when she used the last energy she had in her to move towards it and jumped on its back sinking both swords into its back using her weight to impale him further. It roared in pain, but didn’t collapse. I grabbed her by her shoulders and threw her into the nearby tree. She barely managed to get a basic energy barrier up as her body slammed into it. She shook her head, the slam was painful and powerful enough to knock the wind out of her. The abomination advanced towards her, but she didn’t need her swords to finish the job. The Templar and her last stab did a good job in hurting it. Lightning danced in her hand briefly and she willed lightning to slam into the creature. Again and again and again, desperation forcing her to pull onto the Fade a lot more strongly than she usually would have as she was fighting for her life. Only when it collapsed a few steps away from her did she stop, the energy curling around her fingers dying down. Forcing herself to get up she yanked her swords from the rapidly disintegrating being so she wouldn’t lose them. Afterwards, she stood for a few minutes, getting her breath back from almost being broken in two from that slam earlier. A pain-filled groan got her attention.

The Templar was dying and she didn’t need Solas’ knowledge to determine it. Blood bubbled at his lips, the slashes had obviously damaged his internal organs.

“Please…need…”

He didn’t finish, more blood flowing from his mouth.

Lenora leaned over him. She couldn’t help him even if she wished to. The damage was too severe for even a magical healer and she wasn’t one. She decided to finish what she came here to do.

“The farmer you killed earlier, where is his ring?”

He cleared his throat, but managed to answer her.

“He wasn’t the mage, but you were, how? You fight with a sword!”

“He was my friend and it didn’t matter to him if I was a mage or not. Where is the ring?”

He gasped out something she couldn’t understand so she reached for his pouch. He tried to resist, but didn’t have the strength. She opened it to find two rings. One she recognized as Leniel’s, the other, a finer gold wedding ring provoked another gasp from the dying man.

“I’m not going to rob you the same way you did him.”

She took Leniel’s ring and slipped it into her pocket. Taking the other ring she put it into the man’s hand and closed his palm over it.

“Please, end…” He tried to talk again, but his strength was failing.

“You want a peaceful death?”

He closed his eyes as an affirmative. She wanted to scream at him. How dare he demand a quick death after what they did! If they weren’t so paranoid about the mages perhaps her friend would be alive still. Her anger ended as quickly as it flared. She had seen too many deaths of both good and evil, dealt so much death that it didn’t matter than one more person got a relief of a quick death,  fanatical Templar or not. Only one person she knew deserved eternal torment and Mannimarco was writhing on a torture rack back in Coldharbour. This Templar may have deserved a brutal and prolonged punishment, but even former Silencers of the Dark Brotherhood allowed their victims some form of mercy.

“May your Maker accept you into his arms. If not, be welcomed by the dark embrace of Sithis.”

She leaned over him, gloved hands pressing against his nose and mouth. He tried not to fight her, but his body fought for whatever survival it could. He arched weakly and was gone in a matter of moments. She closed his eyes and pulled the remainder of his cloak over him.

She went through each tent systematically until she found some papers detailing their creed, which made her mouth turn into a grimace as well as the papers showing the location of their main camp. She also found some gold that she didn’t need, but Maura could use some of it to hire people to work the farm.

Once the ache from being slammed into a tree subsided, she levitated the Templar’s body into one of the empty tents. Putting her mask and hood back on she left the camp and went towards Dwarfson Pass hoping to get to the nearby Inquisition camp to give them the information of the new Templar camp location. She didn’t look back. Lenora Varelli, the cook for a newly formed religious organisation and the woman, known as the Vestige that defeated Molag-Bal didn’t dwell too long on death.

She was maybe 30 minutes away from the camp when she heard the sounds of battle. She crouched and walked quietly to see what’s going on. Another Templar was standing over a woman with his sword drawn. She didn’t even notice the woman’s mage robes before her own lightning fried him in his armour. Throwing a healing potion at the woman she spotted someone in Inquisition armour fighting off several attackers. She sprinted towards one of them, ignoring the pain in her ribs and drove the Fang of Sithis into his back.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Present time

They were about to re-join with the others when she touched Aedan’s shoulder. Pressing a pouch of gold into his hand she quietly stated:

“This is the gold from the new recruits’ old camp. I think the Inquisition deserves half of it, but the other half should go to my friend, the widow of the murdered farmer. Her name is Maura and she has been sceptical of the Inquisition so far. If you were to give this to her it will go a long way.”

Aedan nodded in understanding and pocketed the pouch just before they met with their new recruits as well as Cassandra and Solas.

With both Blackwall and a former Templar dragging the stretcher with Sebastian, who was still out cold, they continued their trip towards the Inquisition camp. The scouts there raised their eyebrows briefly at the party, but this was not the first time the Herald brought recruits from opposing forces. In fact, they had a few recruits of their own. A handful of mages looking fearfully around them, a Templar whose arm was around the shoulders of a young female apprentice, who judging by the similarity of her faetures to the Templar were related. It also included an armoured young woman, with an axe in her hands and wisps of dark blond hair around her face, which was still flushed from what looked to be a recent battle.

This time it was Lenora who stepped forward and commented on the situation:

“Trynhild Earth-Turner! What have I told you about getting into battles?”

 

** Notes: **

  1. This was originally the chapter I intended to write instead of the previous one, but I suppose the thrill of the fight go away from me.
  2. When you as the protagonist in ESO escape Coldharbour, in many ways you’re relearning everything about the world. In my fic Lenora had some memory loss, probably from the shock of being killed as part of the sacrifice and it took her sometime to start regaining her memory.
  3. The Earth-Turner family makes its appearance in the beginning of the Ebonheart Pact. Their story is quiet tragic, since no matter what you as he Vestige do, most of that family doesn’t make it.
  4. Lenora is so used to be the one offering the help that when the shoe is on another foot, the possibility of asking someone else to do it wouldn’t really occur to her. You could call it the side-effect of being a hero for so long. This probably explains her being stunned when Varric suggested it.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Musical Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost time to go back to Haven, but there are a few things and people to pick up along the way.

 

Chapter 10

All the usual disclaimers apply for both Elder Scrolls Online and Dragon Age: Inquisition.

As someone who is more of a reader of fanfiction rather than a writer, I’m very flattered by the wonderful comments.

 

Aedan leaned back on the couch in the large room, which he assumed was the lounge. He had expected the house in which Lenora, Kyrtos and Trynhild lived to be small, cosy even. Lenora did mention that she and Kyrtos had worked as mercenaries, but until a few hours ago when he saw her fight, he couldn’t quite reconcile the cook and a fighter with an impressive lightening spell into one person. So somewhere in his mind, he relegated her to living in a small country cottage with Kyrtos, not unlike the many houses on the Outskirts of Hinterlands. Instead, the house was a few rooms away from being called a manor. From what he had seen so far, the house had more rooms than the number of occupants suggested. He looked at the several doors in the small corridor to his right, most likely they belonged to Kyrtos as both Lenora and Trynhild headed upstairs to get more things to bring to the Inquisition with them. He considered going back outside when Blackwall came in to the lounge, sipping from a large mug in his right hand and extending the other hand that contained a similar mug towards Aedan.

Aedan accepted the mug, looking suspiciously at the amber coloured liquid.

“Mead.” Blackwall clarified and then took a long sip from his own mug before talking again.

“It’s a project for all of them. There is a family from the same place as Trynhild that is still brewing mead after many generations. Supposedly the best in that region. Lenora managed to get a few recipes out of them some years back. When they built the house three years ago, they started a small brewery. Usually, they sell all of it to a couple of dwarven merchants that come past Redcliffe, but this year the war muddled all commerce around these parts.

Aedan took a sip. Pleasantly cold, very sweet and incredibly potent as the alcohol content made itself known when it burned down his throat. He closed his eyes from pleasure as the warmth spread down his body.

He remarked:

“We should take a few barrels to the Inquisition once we know what Lenora wants to charge for them. There are some Fereldan nobles that would prefer it to Orlesian wine. Come to think of it, some Free Marchers wouldn’t say no to this as well.”

“We have some metheglin and a few barrels of that blend that can be sold. The rest can hold for a few more years.”

Trynhild Earth-turner, newly recruited to the Inquisition, was taller than quite a few men, nearly equalling Blackwall in height and whilst significantly slimmer than him, walked in heavy chainmail like it was nothing more than a summer dress.

“You’re drinking Lenora’s blend. She’ll probably give you the first barrel free. The rest the Inquisition can buy at a reasonable price. Once the war is over, we’ll need the money to get started on a bigger batch of that.”

“To quote Varric, I sense a story behind Lenora’s blend.”

Trynhild smiled:

“There is always a story when Lenora is involved. Usually, these stories have a good ending. The Snowpeak brothers were so grateful to Lenora that they created this blend just for her.”

Aedan tried to channel Varric.

“If there is mead than there are giants, who probably tried to steal the mead. So how tall was their leader who led the raid?”

“You and Varric should compare notes on exaggerated story telling.”

Lenora’s amused voice came from the stairs where she was standing with a large backpack.

“Both Varric and I find that exaggeration brings out your inner biographer dear lady. You will then tell us the actual story to get the facts right. I’ll simply enjoy the story and Varric will get inspiration for another series for his adoring fans.”

Trynhild gave a short laugh. “He has you there Len. You don’t like it when someone embellishes the facts. You can’t help yourself in correcting them.”

Lenora didn’t look offended, but gave a slightly sheepish smile acknowledging the truth.

“One of my many character flaws, I admit. It started when I was hired to scare away a couple of wild dogs from a farm for a small payment. I ended up having to kill several large bears attracted by the food that the farmer’s wife kept on forgetting to clear away from the porch. A few months after that, I was paid to defeat a band of goblins trying to get into an isolated farmstead, only to find a couple from the nearby village using the abandoned basement as a place for their amorous meetings. After a while, true facts become important.”

“So who was the giant leader really?”

That came from a clearly intrigued Blackwall.

Lenora sighed, but she ‘corrected’ the story.

“The brewery belonged to the Snowpeak family in a place called Voljar. The king’s rule in their region was being threatened by his brother and his followers, who looted and attacked civilians. In their minds, if you weren’t against the “False King”, you were for him. The Snowpeak brothers are well known for their mead. The King’s brother’s followers, who decided to name themselves Stormfists, had decided that some free mead for their so-called efforts was in order.

They raided the brewery, damaged some equipment, looted supplies and killed anyone in their way. One of them was a wife of one of the Snowpeak brothers. They pleaded that I avenge those killed and if possible, bring back some of the honey that was stolen.

A group of the King’s soldiers and I managed to destroy the local Stormfist band. I defeated their leader and managed to salvage some of the stolen honey. Really, not that exciting a story.”

Trynhild huffed in annoyance.

“You talk like an Imperial scribe! I know you could do better than that! Did you mention the giant that was guarding the honey?”

Lenora rolled her eyes.

“If you want a story, let Varric tell you one. I only recounted the facts. The giant simply found the honey that was stolen, which understandably he only wanted for himself the poor daft thing. I let him take a few barrels and chased him away from the rest.”

“You chased away a giant after you felt sorry for him?”

Aedan’s observations of Lenora were only for the last few months, but he was beginning to see that her view was decidedly different from the majority. The majority for example, wouldn’t be calling a giant feasting on stolen honey a poor thing.

“He didn’t hurt anyone. He found a lot more honey he would have been able to acquire on his own. The Stormfists were the real threat and those were dealt with. That’s what really happened. Now, if you’re finished with the mead, may I trouble you with helping Tryn and I in taking some of the barrels back to Haven? I think we can close up the house after that.”

That was a politely framed, albeit not very subtle hint that they’ve taken too long to get back to the Inquisition camp where the new recruits along with the still unconscious Templar, who was kept in that state by Solas, waited to be shown the way to Haven.

Blackwall got a small cart from the nearby shed to put the barrels of mead in and Aedan gallantly offered to carry both ladies’ backpacks. Lenora was waiting by the front door for Tyrnhild to get some ‘last-minute things’ so she could lock it.

The blonde appeared just as Lenora was showing signs of impatience. She was holding a lute case and a grin that Aedan always associated with his younger cousins when they would act first and ask for forgiveness instead of permission from his uncle.

Lenora raised both her eyebrows in surprise.

“I don’t really have time to play that Tryn. It would just collect dust.”

Informed by his experience with his cousins, Aedan knew that wheedling was the next stage.

“Please Len. I’ll help your people so you can have some free time to play.”

Lenora still seemed unsure so Aedan was prepared for the next stage: emotional blackmail. Blackwall looked like he was about to join the younger woman in asking for some future performances, but Aedan shook his head indicating that he should not speak up. If anyone could get Lenora to do what they asked, the woman whom Lenora seem to treat as a younger sibling would have the best chance.

“I just miss some songs from home sometimes. You know, the ones my Da used to play back on Bleakrock. If you would rather not, I understand.”

Aedan’s cousins could have applauded the artful catch in her last words. There would be no way that Lenora would say no to that. He was proven right when she sighed in resigned manner.

“Fine, but you get to carry it.”

They started to walk back to the camp, Blackwall carefully manoeuvring the cart as not to jolt the casks full of mead when Aedan asked a question he meant to ask earlier.

“So what happened to the Stormfist leader you defeated?”

Lenora adjusted the sword sheath for one of her swords before replying.

“After I killed him, I chopped off his head and mounted it on the pike by the brewery as a warning.”

Blackwall’s eyebrows rose to his hairline briefly and Trynhild gave him a look that showed he should have known the answer to such an obvious question.

He again glanced at the woman, who made sure that everyone in the Inquisition was fed, but had no problem mounting a bandit’s head on a pike. If his staying at the Inquisition wasn’t mandatory, he would have joined the organisation voluntarily. Probably safer than anywhere in Thedas he reasoned.

 

 

When they arrived at the Inquisition camp, Aedan managed to convince Lenora to part with her friend’s ring and allow him to return it to the newly widowed elven woman. He also promised to make sure that she got to Dennett’s farm unharmed. Even though the soldiers were still busy with the watchtowers, any news of the Inquisition making life safer for the nearby residents was one step closer in convincing Dennett to lend his horses to the fledgling organisation. He took both Blackwall and Cassandra with him after promising to return in a few hours so they could all return to Haven. For the rest of those due back in Haven it meant using one of the many large boulders within the camp site to sit and wait.

Lenora unwrapped the lute after taking it out of its case, putting the fabric it was wrapped in to the side. She skimmed her fingers lightly along the varnished rosewood body and plucked a string. It made a soft gentle sound and she plucked another string. After adjusting the ebony tuners she took her time testing each string again. The lute didn’t need much adjustment anyway, but it has been a while since she played it and she could almost hear the voice of her music teacher sternly admonishing her to tune the instrument before each performance. She wasn’t intending to play, but it seemed the force of habit to tune it was still present. She reached for the fabric to wrap it up again when Solas approached.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to interrupt. You have a fine instrument.”

She was curious: “Do you play?”

“No.’ he sounded regretful. “My friend used to and I’ve grown fond of lute music.”

Lenora didn’t need to ask. That kind of tone meant that Solas’s friend was no longer able to play anything.

“I could play you something if you’d like?” she offered surprising even herself.

Solas looked like he was about to refuse when he frowned and opened his mouth framing it to say no, but closed it and smiled in acquiescence before speaking again.

“I would like that, thank you.”

Putting the lute closer to her she started playing a sombre, but popular melody. Her fingers moving almost automatically as she played. The melody was about the Aldmer fleet celebrating their victory over the Akaviri. This melody however, concentrated on the grief for those lost during the battle rather than the elation of victory. Seeing the normally stoic Solas smile and relax his posture as she played meant that she chose well.

By the time she was finished, she had a small audience, including the usually serious Glenna, the Hinterlands Requisitions officer. Glenna sat cross-legged not far from Lenora, a small smile on her face. Trynhild on the other hand, stood with a cheeky grin not far from the potions table and Lenora barely managed to restrain her reaction of rolling her eyes at the Nord woman. Unsurprisingly, she was asked to play more. Remembering some of the tunes she learnt during her time in Thedas, she launched into a love ballad about King Callenhad, which was quickly followed by some of the lighter jingles she remembered hearing on her travels through the Daggerfall Covenant lands.

When Aedan returned he led several mounts for the Inquisition, including a beautiful Ferelden charger that he rode himself, Trynhild was singing “Sway as we kiss” to Lenora’s music.

They set out back to Haven that afternoon, both the Templar and mage recruits walking along each other. Two of the younger mages sat on Aedan’s horse, whose reigns he was holding as he walked next to it. Two of the horses pulled the cart with mead, whilst another two pulled the makeshift stretcher for the still comatose Templar.

Notes:

  1. This was probably one of the hardest chapters to write since it serves as a connecting piece between Lenora and Aedan’s adventures in Hinterlands and both of them getting back to Haven.
  2. You can play the lute in ESO, so one can assume that Vestige does have proficiency in the instrument.
  3. In the process of planning later chapters, I managed to look up the Elder Scrolls Online timeline. Not long after the Soulburst event, Abnur Tharn’s daughter became Empress Regent in Second Era, 2E 579. That same year, Lenora was sacrificed and her soul stolen by Molag-Bal.  Her defeat of the Daedra prince happened in 2E 582. The events of Orsinium and most other DLCs happened in 2E 583. Lenora left the following year in 2E 584 (after having to go back in time and assisting in the other two Alliances). Lenora and both of her companions arrived in Thedas in 9:37 Dragon. I highly recommend the Unofficial Elder scrolls wiki as a source for all things Elder Scrolls, not just ESO.
  4. In 2E 486, the King of Altmer won a battle against the invaders from another continent, Akavir. He was Queen Ayrenn’s father.
  5. The slightly modified story of the Voljar meadery takes place in the Ebonheart Pact storyline. The mead recipes are in one of the books you can read inside the Snowpeak brothers’ house.
  6. I’m aware that the Herald receives horses before the watchtowers are completed, but I think Dennett would wait until he saw some proof of the Inquisition doing good things for his neighbours and his people.
  7. I always assumed that Lenora would bring a lot of the money she earned during her travels to Thedas, after all, gold is valued there as well. So as a former noble and often a welcome guest of Kings and Queens she wouldn’t really be satisfied with a small cottage. Especially sharing it with others, no matter how good of a friend they are. Sharing several suites of rooms in the other hand is more acceptable :)



 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Career choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lenora has a staffing issue whilst Aedan makes a stand. Throw in some aphrodisiac for Commander Cullen along with an old acquittance of Lenora's and you have recipe. The question is for what? In other words, indigestion may be the least of your problems.

 

All the usual disclaimers apply to both Dragon Age and ESO.

 

Haven seemed to swell with more pilgrims and recruits since she left 5 days ago. The newly arrived gawked at Aedan before either going off to the Chantry to pray with Mother Gisele or looked where to report for their new duties to one of the advisors. The increase in people meant an increase in noise. Lenora saw that both the smithy and the field where the new recruits trained seemed to have doubled the amount of people that were there less than a week before. She could hear Threnn shouting orders to move stacks of supplies to a new warehouse as she walked past the full Chantry to the kitchens. The scene that greeted her almost made her turn around and walk back to her home in the Hinterlands.

A new arrival, a tall haughty-looking man in his fifties stood with his arms folded across his chest as he glared at the woman in front of him. Mistress Gellen was a thin Fereldan woman, who Lenora considered to be the best when cooking for the soldiers had her arms in a similar position as she glared right back at him. Standing next to them, the Ambassador looked small and somewhat helpless to stop the glaring contest between the two.

Lenora sighed softly in exasperation and quietly approached her superior from behind.

“Is there a problem my lady?”

Josephine to her credit didn’t jump too high up from surprise. She looked stunned when she saw Lenora’s weapons and armour, but ever the diplomat covered it fairly well.

“Mistress Varelli! You startled me. I’m glad you’ve arrived earlier than expected. Master Giles had volunteered to cook for the Inquisition. I’m sure you’ll know how to utilize his talents best. You have my utmost confidence! Now if you’ll excuse me, the Count is to arrive soon and I must make sure he and his retinue are settled in with comfort.”

The shorter woman inclined her head towards Lenora and beat a dignified retreat leaving the two warring cooks still glaring at each other. Now that she was closer to the two she could see the majority of the kitchen staff huddled on the other side of the kitchen. Suppressing another sigh, she called out to the rest of the staff.

“I’m sure there is still plenty of work to do.”

That served as a signal for them to resume their duties, but Lenora thought she spotted quite a few glances towards the senior cooks. She motioned for both of them to follow her and strode towards the space behind Adan’s cabin. Reaching the space between the cabin and the wooden fence that served as the border to the small town she looked at the man and woman again. She addressed the woman first:

“Mistress Gellen?”

That seemed to be the key to unlocking the usually taciturn woman's speech. She whirled towards the man and almost hissed her words.

“This one thinks that he is Maker’s gift to cooking. Coming in and ordering everyone about! I told him Mistress Varelli sets the rules, yet he insists that we do everything his way. He may be big deal in the Free Marches, but he is in Haven now. We have our own rules and no snooty cooks tell us what to do unless you’ve agreed to it first.”

This may have been the most she had seen Mistress Gellen say in one conversation in the months Lenora had known her. She glanced at the still silent man and motioned for him to speak. He looked at her briefly before responding, but something about his look didn’t seem right to her. He spoke, with an accent similar to Blackwall.

“What this simple woman is trying to say is that she resisted every innovation so she could feed the file and rank and leaving the more distinguished guests and the advisors of the Inquisition with nothing more than simple stew! I ran the kitchen in the noble house of Brandis in Markham for years and they only had praise for me!”

“If only you’d stayed there!” The tall Fereldan woman was almost incandescent with rage.

“Mistress Galen!”

“So you could serve your slop to Andraste’s chosen? I’m only sorry I arrived too late!”

“Master Giles!”

Finally, both were silent. Lenora looked at both of them, waiting for them to calm down before she spoke again.

“Mistress Gellen, I appreciate your work whilst I was away. You can go back to the kitchen to carry on with your duties, but please send one of the junior cooks to get more sugar and spices. The cart is just outside the gates with a young blond woman guarding it. Her name is Trynhild and she is also carrying additional herbs we managed to procure from the merchants and Inquisition scouts in the Hinterlands. She’ll help bring the cart in, but afterwards please show her where she must report to Commander Cullen.”

The woman, red splotches from her earlier excitement on her normally pale cheeks nodded and sent a triumphant look towards the tall man. She walked away after stating how good it was to have Lenora back. Only when she was gone, did Lenora allow more time to observe the older man in front of her.

He was probably younger than her earlier estimation of him to be in his fifties. Closer to Mistress Gellen’s 45, but despite his earlier haughty demeanour, she could see the sunken cheeks and his clothes, clearly made for a larger frame that he was now. He may have been a cook in a noble house once, but recent events spoke of lean days. Badly patched clothes with multiple mud stains showed that those days were most likely spent without proper shelter. The sun was slowly receding over the horizon behind Lenora, but the last rays reflected brightly in the snow. Giles flinched almost violently and shut his eyes. It may have been a momentary action, but Lenora had her answer.

“When did you start losing your sight?” She asked gently.

The man’s shoulders stooped, any pretence of superiority gone.

“Almost 5 years Mistress Varelli.”

“And did the family you worked for let you go, once your sight impacted your cooking?”

His shoulders lowered even more.

“No, they offered that I retire at the estate. I refused, thinking I could do better.”

“Yet no one would take you once they saw that with your sight you couldn’t cook as well as you used to?”

“I did indeed my lady and I wouldn’t take a lower position because of my pride. Inquisition was my last hope when I arrived two days ago.”

He hang his head, expecting her to do the same.

“If you’ve mastered your pride, I wouldn’t turn away a skilled cook Master Giles.”

He lifted his head in surprise, cloudy eyes widened in surprise.

“There is a healer mage working with our resident alchemist in one of the nearby cabins. Report to him to have your health checked out. I think Adan has a pair of glasses that might help you. Where I’m from, we call what you have cataracts. There is a possibility it might be fixed, but I would caution you not to raise hope until I know what the healer has to say. I assume you are staying in a tent with the other recruits?”

He nodded in response, his face losing its serious expression in favour of a small smile.

“I’ll find you after the Chantry services tomorrow morning. Have some rest in the meantime. You’ll begin tomorrow. You may go.”

“Thank you so much Mistress Varelli. I’ve all but given up hope. Thank you!”

“You may need to start from the beginning Master Giles, but I suspect you’ll do fine.”

The man almost ran to Adan’s cabin.

Lenora started rolling her shoulders to help her back, still sore from her earlier fight with the abomnation when a sharp noise, possibly a branch snapping alerted her to someone nearby. She started walking towards the nearest cabin making sure that whoever that was would follow her and then reveal themselves when the sun reflected on the wall and thus revealing their shadow. A few moments later, the rays from the waning sun hit the wall the shadow revealed the outline of a Templar armour behind her. She immediately rolled to her right to rise behind the startled Templar.

“Ser Adrien? I thought you heard the Herald’s view about not spying on mages.”

The young man, raised his armoured hands in peace.

“I assure you Mademoiselle. I came here of my own volition.”

Lenora raised her eyebrows in surprise, but didn’t say anything further as she leaned back against the cabin’s back wall.

Ser Adrien was slim for a Templar, with dark hair and eyes and a very slight Orlesian accent. He didn’t seem the type to join a fanatical organisation since he held himself in a pragmatic manner, evidenced in the well maintained armour without any decorations and a plain scabbard for his equally plain sword.

He took a moment before speaking, possibly trying to find the right words.

“I know that our current membership within the Inquisition is partly thanks to your information about the demon that had some…influence on us, especially on poor Ser Le Fontaine. We believed in doing what was right, but were no better than mages, who were corrupted by demons. It’s a sobering thought, but that’s not why I approached you today.”

Lenora kept an expression of polite interest on her face. She appreciated the gratitude, but then this man joined the group that believed mages were not even people. Ser Adrien continued in the meantime.

“I’m willing to admit that our views in the heat of war were radical, but we still believe that the mages should not have left the Circles where they could be watched and protected. We cannot do this here and we are willing to abide by Herald’s rules. I just wanted to let you know that I will always be grateful and if you were to be corrupted, I will not let you suffer from the demon’s influence long. Its death will be swift and merciful.”

He stopped speaking, the earnest expression still on his face. He spoke about demon corruption like it was an assured conclusion. She could have reacted with accusations and even violence, but decided against it. After all, shrugging off a thousand year mentality that people should be enslaved just for the crime of being able to do magic was not done easily, if at all.

“I’m touched by your concern Ser Adrien. I cannot help, but feel obliged to offer a similar boon to you. You and your friends’ help was invaluable to defeating the demon and his minions and I would be a poor friend to let you suffer from a demon’s possession. Furthermore, knowing your past as a member of the Templar Order I will be considerate enough not to use any magic.”

Whatever the young man had expected, her response wasn’t it. He opened his mouth and then closed it in order to come up with another statement in response. Lenora in the meantime pushed her shoulders away from the wall and walked to stand in front of the taller man.  Wetting her lower lip slowly, she opened her eyes wider and then raised her head to meet his eyes with her own.

“Do not worry, you’ll never see me coming.”

This was said in a sultrier tone as she patted his shoulder in apparent consolation and then lowered her eyelashes almost demurely before walking back towards the kitchen, leaving the stunned man behind.

Only when she was approaching the Chantry did she allow herself a chuckle. She knew the man meant well, but if this was his approach with friendship to someone with magic, she hoped the man never fell in love with a mage.

The Chantry just finished its early evening service and both pilgrims and members of the Inquisition were leaving the building in small groups talking among themselves.

“Mistress Varelli!”

She turned to trace the source of the voice and her smile fell. The lay brother approaching her looked to be a middle aged man with grey barely touching his full head of brown hair, his robes slightly faded, but neat. She knew that he was at least 20 years older, reaching his 50th year when she was still in Tamriel and despite his robes he could easily keep up with the fastest scouts of the Inquisition. Probably came from being a thief for most of his life and the Thieves Guild leader for a good half of it

“Brother Nicholas” – she said frostily.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The War Room

Aedan stretched his back hearing a satisfying pop after sitting in the same position for two hours. He wasn’t a fan of any Chantry service; as a former Templar he was required to attend every service and since then was never keen to go back to the Chantry. Mother Gisele however, insisted that he attend a service at least once after returning from a prolonged absence. This was primarily done to reassure the faithful she claimed. Josephine argued that his presence proved to those clerics whose opinion was still on the fence in regards to the Inquisition that he was still a faithful son of the Chantry. He wasn’t one, not since his sister’s death, but thought it wiser to sacrifice a little bit of his time to gain more favour for the Inquisition.

 He looked over to the rest of the people standing near the table. Cassandra had a placid and almost peaceful expression on her face after the service. Nothing seemed to shake her faith, whilst Leliana still had the same inscrutable expression as before. He knew from speaking to her before, that she prayed a great deal for guidance from the Maker. He wanted to let her know that it was useless to hope, but some things a person were supposed to discover for themselves. Cullen had a look of someone going through the motions, more concerned with the constantly expanding Inquisition army and its recruits rather than concentrating on the service. Josephine was the only person not to attend this service claiming that the new noble arrivals needed to be made as comfortable as possible. He did wonder at times if she like many nobles in Orlais and Antiva, was only paying lip service to the Chantry.

He started by verbalising his report about the reception they received in Orlais from the Chantry. He described in detail their encounter with Lord Seeker Lucius. Their meeting with Grand Enchanter Fiona was brief, but he thought he communicated everything that could be important. He was about to start speaking about the new recruits that would be joining him on mission, but before he could launch into a story about Sera and her pants scheme his advisors predictably started arguing about which side to contact in regards to the Breach. Cullen started arguing in favour of the Templars once again backed by Cassandra. Both Leliana and Josephine argued for the mages. He waited the requisite five minutes to let their still unchanged arguments play out, watching the small grandfather clock standing in the right corner of the room, probably left over by one of the Clerics that perished at the Conclave. Then he cleared his throat loudly to bring their attention back to his report that was still not finished.

Cullen coloured from embarrassment and both Josephine and Cassandra looked a little guilty, yet again leaving Leliana looking unaffected by the fact that they spent yet more time on this with no resolution in sight.

“We still have a few things to do before we can court either faction. We still need more resources, including those of Dennett and his horses. Cullen, did the soldiers complete the watchtowers?”

He felt a little easier hearing Cullen recount how much the new watchtowers helped with preventing bandit attacks. This was one less obstacle in bringing order to the Hinterlands. Despite their differing views, these three were exceptionally good at their job. He doubted he could do half as well in their place, but the greenish glow on his left hand reminded him of his role in this situation. The others were discussing other tasks that were completed whilst he was in Orlais, referring to people and contracts he wouldn’t know about. He was beginning to lose interest when Cassandra jabbed his side with her elbow.

“You wanted to tell us about the new recruits you will be travelling with?” The gentle prompt was from Josephine, who seemed to understand that he was bored by the minutiae of tasks he wasn’t involved in. He gave her a grateful smile.

“Blackwall was in the area you said he would be Leliana. He’s a warden recruiter, who hadn’t heard about the other wardens leaving. He is happy to help in any way he can though. Good fighter and has some experience in leading men.”

Leliana smiled. Her concern for the wardens was understandable after travelling with the Hero of Ferelden. He addressed Josephine next.

“Madam La Fer remains extremely ambitious. She is however willing to help us and offer us not only her connections and influence, but her companionship. Whilst I’m not exactly a fan of the latter, she is formidable both politically and magically. Needless to say that I’m at least glad she’s on our side.”

“She has arrived yesterday Aedan. Her demands were very simple once she saw that we’re still building our support.”

Aedan raised an unbelieving eyebrow. Josephine blushed prettily.

“Well, in comparison to what they usually are. They are however doable and she only brought 3 staff members along. The bare minimum she told me.”

Cullen unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snort as Cassandra issued her patented disgusted noise.

Leliana added her bit about Sera.

“She’s not the most stable person I’ve had to work with, but her spies within Orlais and Denerim are already passing enough information to help us.”

“If you figured out how to decipher her speech, she will be invaluable when scouting.” That particular jibe came from Cassandra.

“You’re still sore that she managed to get you to make a joke afterwards. Varric is still recovering.” He mock accused the woman.

The other three turned towards Cassandra and she paled slightly under her tan.

“Perhaps later. I don’t think we have the time to tell jokes at this meeting” – she deflected. Cullen and Josephine nodded, but Leliana winked at Cassandra causing her to pale even more.

“We have a Templar who was in the process of turning into an abomination. Fortunately, we managed to halt his progress and keep him unconscious. I asked that he has a double guard of former Templars in the meantime. Cullen, I remember from Varric’s book that you had encountered such a thing before. This man was a friend a while back and I would like to give him as much help as he can. Can you assist?”

Cullen rubbed his neck in a familiar nervous gesture. Mentions of Kirkwall tended to provoke this type of reaction, but he nodded in agreement.

“Additionally, we have some new recruits who decided the Inquisition was the better option and are willing to help in any way she can. We managed to persuade a few Templars that belonged to a fanatical group called the Just to join us instead. They were under an influence of a rage demon, but we managed to put a stop to that. The other members of the Just have committed at least one atrocity and I would like to see them stopped. We have the map to their whereabouts. I would like to take some soldiers and the rest of my companions to eradicate them. We’ve stopped the most radical elements of the mages, time to do the same to the radicals from the Templar order.”

Cullen agreed – “I can give you about 10 people. A couple are veterans and the rest are promising recruits. It will give the recruits some much needed experience.”

“Excellent. We managed to get two more Templars and 5 mages from another conflict as recruits. Two of them are still apprentices. One of the Templars was trying to get his mage sister out of the war zone.  Unfortunately, the mages she was with were attacked by yet another group of fanatical Templars. One of the locals helped out when she cut down their leader without any help. I recruited her too.”

“You have been busy.” – that came from Leliana, but it was tinged with some admiration.  Aedan tried not to let it show, but this pleased him. Leliana was one of the most efficient people he ever had to work with. Any praise coming from her was entirely deserved.

“That just leaves the report about Mistress Varelli.” – Cassandra again. Oh well, Lenora’s mage status was bound to come up sooner or later.

“Our cook also happens to be a mage. She helped out our newest mage healer and managed to acquire the location of the Just. She seems to have her magic under control, knows how to fight with a sword and happens to own a tiny brewery where she produces some good mead. Do we keep her where she is, transfer her or relieve her from her post?”

That didn’t summarise Lenora as a person, but it was hard to view someone objectively once they saved your life and you actually liked them.

Josephine reacted first.

“We’re absolutely not removing her from her post! I had many a compliment about her cooking from our guests and she performs her duties very efficiently. Unless she starts throwing bolts of lightning at our guests I have no problem with her being a mage. Besides, do we not accept those who want to help us? Mage or not?”

Leliana smiled.

“We’re not removing her Josie. Her being a mage doesn’t matter.”  The last sentence was aimed along with her gaze at Cullen, who flushed guiltily. She turned to Aedan and Cassandra.

“How good of a fighter?”

“Leliana!”

“Don’t worry Josie. I would like to know her skills nevertheless, it may prove useful.”

Cassandra answered for him.

“I believe she is more used to fighting with a staff and using magic than swords. Her martial skills are respectable and it’s obvious she’s had some experience. I’d say it will be difficult for me to bring her down.”

Leliana was taken aback.

“That good?”

“Very much so and she uses spells that clearly don’t require a staff. She took an abomination and some demons down on her own with nothing but a few bruises to show for it. At the very least, she needs regular practice to help out others.” – She paused before continuing. “After her cook duties are completed of course.” –that was mainly to pacify Josephine.

Cullen frowned and opened his mouth, most likely to disagree that the mages should not be monitored. At this point Aedan’s patience snapped. He turned to Cullen before speaking.

“I told the former members of “The Just” that mages are people and they will not be watched like they were in a Circle. They are free now and if we’re to have the support of any mage we cannot renege on our promises. This trouble started, because we treated people worse than rabid dogs all because of the gifts they were born with. If we carry on doing this, we will be no better than the likes of Lord Seeker Lambert, who is responsible for the death of thousands due to his paranoia. All of you empowered me to help the Inquisition grow and to recruit the right people. If I cannot keep my promises to them, because you decided you cannot see past the bigotry of the past, you can find yourself another Herald.”

The others in the room were silent, stunned by the sudden outburst from a normally easy-going man.

Surprisingly, it was Cullen who answered him first.

“You’re right of course. Prejudice against magic and the horrible treatment of those involved is what started this chaos. It wouldn’t do for us to repeat the mistakes of others. I will advise the rest of the former Templars to desist watching our mages. Although I strongly advise supervision for the apprentices, if not by Templars, at least by the more experienced enchanters that have joined the Inquisition.”

It seemed everyone breathed a silent sigh of relief as the best hope for closing the Breach calmed down.

He breathed in before speaking again, his voice calm and serious.

“I’m sorry, it was not my intent to shout or threaten. I believe what I say, but you did not deserve my anger because I rage against those not in this room.”

Ever the peacemaker, Josephine hurried with an answer.

“Quite understandable Herald. Having to contend with the Chantry’s denunciations in Orlais and the atrocities perpetrated on the innocent people of Hinterlands is no easy task. We’re partially at fault as well, we had pushed you so hard and yet despite your ability to close rifts you’re still human. I would suggest you rest for a couple of days to regain your strength.”

As she spoke she looked at the rest of the participants of the Council challenging them with the look to contradict her. Most of them were still too taken aback by Aedan’s outburst to disagree.

Aedan smiled.

“There is no need to coddle me Josie. What we’re doing is important. A day or two of rest will do all of us some good. I can complete my reports in the meantime and meet with the Count as planned.”

“Then we’re agreed, we reduce our workload for two days to rest so we can focus with fresh eyes on the challenges ahead. We need to show the people of the Inquisition that we appreciate their efforts. This can also help us with our more influential guests. A few intimate parties can be used to conclude several negotiations.”

Both Cullen and Cassandra sent her horrified looks, but Josephine was too busy scribbling notes for the upcoming party to notice. Leliana tried to hide a smile and failed.

Aedan decided to wrap up the meeting.

“Leliana, is there still no word from the scouts on the Storm Coast?”

“Not yet, if they do not report by tomorrow evening, we may have to send Iron Bull and his Chargers to investigate. This however, won’t affect our plans to establish a presence in the Fallow Mire. Scout Harding and her people had already left this morning.”

Cassandra not being one to stand on ceremony asked:

“If we do not have any news or decisions we should go. Resting tomorrow and the day after means that the rest of today’s work may need to double. Cullen and I still have to evaluate the rest of the new recruits.”

Josephine looked up from her notes.

“Of course. Please don’t forget that you had been requested to meet Lord Asran Pentaghast lady Cassandra. He’s your third cousin I believe. I told him you would be there.”

Aedan saw Cassandra’s jaw tighten.

“Thank you for reminding me Josephine.”

Cassandra strode out of the room effectively ending the meeting.

Aedan wanted to follow her, but Cullen stopped him by calling his name.

“I wanted to apologise. I didn’t mean to offend you. I know that as former Templars we had vastly different experiences. I probably saw the worst magic has to offer and I know my opinons are coloured by my past. I certainly didn’t want to imply that we should treat the mages badly.”

He stopped, not sure what to stay and in an unconscious gesture rubbed the back of his neck.

Aedan still feeling bad about his outburst earlier clasped his shoulder in reassurance.

“Cullen, even when I was still in the order your perseverance at Kinloch made you a legend. It’s understandably difficult to trust mages after that. I’m just glad that you are willing to be open-minded. I spoke a little about Kirkwall with Varric, he told me that you tried to rescue as many mages as possible from the chaos after Meredith Stannard’s death. Not many Templars would have done that.”

Cullen’s hand started to reach for his neck again.

“I…thank you. I will try to be more open to the idea Herald.”

Aedan adopted an annoyed expression at the title.

“Sorry, Aedan.” Cullen corrected.

“So, you’re off to see the new recruits’ skills. Mind if I join you?

“Not at all. As long as I get to see your latest report.”

“Slave driver.”

They were almost out of the Chantry hall when Cullen asked, stammering a little as he did so.

“You and Mistress Varreli. You have an understanding?”

Aedan gave a short laugh.

“I flirt with Lenora and she doesn’t hit me for my bad lines. That’s all. Mostly she is just someone I can talk to about something other than the Breach and the current war. I suppose she is one of the few that doesn’t ask me for help. The fact that I get to taste good food ahead of others is just an added bonus.”

Cullen smiled.

“So you would like her too? Ask for help I mean?”

Aedan gave an embarrassed smile.

“Am I that obvious? I wish she would at least asked me to accompany her to help her friend. Instead, she ends up helping one of our people. I still don’t know if she is genuinely interested or just showing kindness to some poor bastard who got himself a permanent green light on his left hand.”

Cullen snorted.

“Some light. If it helps, I hadn’t heard anything untoward our head cook. She and her friend helped to escort a group of pilgrims to Haven just before the Conclave blew. We were running low on people to help and after the disaster the old cook’s nephew created in the kitchen she was the only one to offer help. Her friend became one of my sergeants and they’ve been here ever since.”

“She doesn’t strike me as duplicitous, just secretive. This naturally means it’s that much more difficult to figure her out. Beautiful women don’t go for widowed ex-Templars like me.”

“Women.” – Cullen added sagely.

Before Aedan could respond Lenora walked through the doors followed by a lay brother. Spotting Aedan and Cullen, she almost ran towards them, the older man following at her heels.

“Commander,” – she asked, sparing a brief nod in Aedan’s direction. “May I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course.” – Cullen was surprised she addressed him and not the Herald.

“Did you by any chance spot a difference in the taste of the food brought you in the last few days? Please, there is no need to spare my feelings if something tasted off.”

“I didn’t wat to say anything, but the food for the last few days was not the usual quality Mistress Varelli. I’m sure the kitchen was running low on spices so the taste wasn’t the same.”

This earned him a frown at first. Then he blushed when she gave him an appraising look, somewhat similar Isabela gave him in Kirkwall every time she accompanied Hawke when they met.

“Commander, I understand that some in the Templar order take a vow of chastity. Have you?”

“Maker, why would you ask me that?”

“Please Commander. There is a reason for this.”

This came from the lay brother himself. Aedan wasn’t sure, but he felt that the man seemed amused.

“No, I didn’t take those vows. I don’t see why you need that information in relation to a few spoiled meals Mistress Varelli.”

She stopped him by laying her fingers over his.

“Please, this is important. Did you leave a lover in Kirkwall?”

Cullen turned even redder than he was. He didn’t however remove her hand from his Aedan noted with a touch of jealousy.

“Noone, too busy I suppose.”

Lenora turned her head toward the lay brother.

“That confirms it.”

Aedan was confused and still bothered that she hasn’t removed her hand from Cullen’s.

“Explain what?” he asked somewhat waspishly.

“Someone has been selling a mix of herbs as aphrodisiacs to various people. In turn, dishes to certain people, such as the Commander and even one or two of the visiting nobles are liberally added to their food in the time for the food to make it to the intended victim. Unfortunately, the mix contained an herb one of the guests was allergic to. Adan barely managed to save his life.”

Lenora spoke quietly, but Aedan could see she was angry.

“What do you intend to do?”

“For the moment, all food to the eligible dignitaries will be delivered by people I trust. When I find who the supplier is I intend to get the names of his clients. Then I will haul all of them in front of both Sister Leliana and the Ambassador for a punishment at their discretion.”

Aedan winced.

“I do not envy anyone who’ll be caught then. Both Leliana and Josie will take that kind of thing very seriously. Do you require help?”

Lenora looked at him for a moment.

“If you have time to spare. Excuse me, I need to report this to the Ambassador.”

She walked away in the same brisk manner she approached.

Cullen shook his head.

“She is very angry.”

“No, that’s just irritation. You wouldn’t want to see her angry.”

That was voiced by the Chantry brother. Nicholas, that was the name.

“You know Lenora?”

“I cannot claim a close acquaintance, but yes, I do know her. “

“Is she a danger?” Cullen looked worried.

“Unless you intend to slaughter everyone in Haven at a whim, you don’t need to worry. She claims to be allergic to mass slaughter and retaliates appropriately. Now if you excuse me, I need to speak to Mother Gisele.”

Both men looked on as he approached Haven’s senior cleric and then looked at each other.

“At least she accepted your help this time.” Cullen offered.

“Women.” Aedan responded.

Then they both walked out of the Chantry to meet the new recruits.

 

Notes:

  1. Something that’s not really shown in the game is the amount of people who flock to Haven once the Herald’s deeds become known. The population of Haven seems to be the same from the beginning until the attack by the Elder One. Only from Josephine do we know they’ve had an influx of recruits and pilgrims, not to mention various guests from the nobility of the surrounding countries.
  2. Cataracts are often the result of aging, but there are other factors that can influence their development, like family history. One of the symptoms is where sources of light for example sunlight, become too bright.
  3. One doesn’t need to play the Thieves guild DLC in ESO to figure out that brother Nick is a former Guild master of the Thieves guild. His arrival in Thedas was certainly a surprise to Lenora.
  4. Fallow Mire is one of the more unpleasant exploration areas in Dragon Age Inquisition full of undead and places that are full of undead.
  5. Aedan’s history with mages and the Templar Order certainly does affect his decisions. Again, it’s not shown in the first act of the game, but the Herald does wield some influence even before they become the Inquisitor. It’s not like the advisors can find a replacement.
  6. As for Ser Adrien, something that has to be considered is that for almost as long as the Andrastian Chantry was established, they wielded the ultimate influence in how people perceive mages. That’s a thousand years of propaganda and established doctrine. It’s not easy to overcome especially for someone whose last affiliation was a group of fanatics aimed at destroying mages. At least he is trying to be friendly.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. What's in a name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What's in a name? that which we call a rose  
> By any other name would smell as sweet.” - Shakespeare
> 
> Names have power, even if people insist on calling you Vestige. Lenora catches up with an old enemy.

All the usual disclaimers apply to both Dragon Age Inquisition and Elder Scrolls Online.

Glenumbra, Prophet’s Grotto, 2nd Era year 580

“I have a name and it’s not Vestige!”

She was getting annoyed and there was nothing in the sprawling cave which she could use as an outlet for the rising mix of petulance and childlike rage within her. Unless you counted the man in front of her and he was the reason that lightning was flickering in between her clenched fingers.

Lyris looked a little worried as she looked on at yet another clash of wills between the elderly Prophet and the woman, whose place she took in Coldharbour during the Prophet’s escape.

“My dear Vestige, the Elder Scrolls were specific...”

This time the bookshelf next to him had acquired a large scorching mark near the top shelf, the smell of ozone permeating the air. Lyris moved to stand between her and the Prophet, right hand gripping Lenora’s shoulder tightly.

“Lenora! There was no need for that.”

“Stop protecting him. He may be old, but he can certainly remember my name!”

“It’s all right Lyris. She has a point. Vestige is a name in the Scrolls, signifying Lenora’s role in what’s to come. I have been so absorbed in preparation to Molag-Bal’s eventual defeat that a simple courtesy of knowing my companion’s name escaped me. I truly apologise Lenora. Would you prefer your first name or a more formal address?”

She knew it was a subtle chiding and her grandmother would be horrified at her behaviour, but she didn’t care. It’s just felt so good to be able to remember who she was. Not all of it yet and the memory of her death at the hand of the cultists was one she could do without, but she remembered her mother’s laugh and her brother’s smile as he talked with their father. She felt more whole in the last few days than she did in months since escaping Coldharbour. She gave a slight bow:

“Adriantea Lenore Etillia Varellius, first daughter of the noble House Varellius of Cheydinhal. I prefer Lenora Varelli.”

The Prophet’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He spoke slowly and softly. Lyris knew that tone usually meant that he did not intend to offend despite his words.

“The Varellius family died less than a year after the Soulburst on their way to their seat in Cheydinhal. Are you sure…” He didn’t finish speaking when Lenora interrupted.

“We sent the luggage and the majority of the staff and bodyguards ahead to Cheydinhal. Father didn’t believe that Clivia Tharn would listen to him anymore. He said she’s grown mad from lies fed to her by Mannimarco’s lackeys. We would have left with them, but my grandmother was sick and by the time she was well enough to travel the main party to Cheydinhal had already left. Our small party was almost at the city gates when the cultists caught up with us. The excuse was that my father and his family were to be detained for questioning on the orders of the Empress Regent.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat refusing the tears to come through before continuing.

“Our bodyguards resisted and we managed to defeat the initial group. We didn’t realise that a second group led by Mannimarco was not far behind. My brother, Savio died defending our mother and one of Mannimarco’s lackeys stabbed my father in the back. By the time we were defeated, my family was dead and the remaining bodyguards and I were escorted to one of the “Worship houses” that damned mer set-up for Molag-Bal. No need to guess how that ended. My chest was ripped open and my heart cut out as a sacrifice to Molag-Bal. My personality was recreated in a Soul Shriven body to serve the Daedra and my soul separated to power Molag-Bal’s schemes. I was in my new body maybe a day, possibly two before Lyris found me. The rest you know.”

Lyris came closer, the smaller woman in front of her only came up below her shoulder in height and wrapped her in a hug.  Blocked by the taller woman’s body Lenora didn’t see the Prophet’s horrified face.

Later, when Lenora went back to Daggerfall city to pick up some new armour before travelling to Stormhaven, Lyris turned to her liege.

“Was this supposed to happen? You told me that Vestige’s past will be shrouded from them forever. Only Mannimarco and his inner circle knew what really happened to the Varelli family. If I hadn’t rescued one of the bodyguards before his sacrifice, we would not have known this. If she was an impostor, she wouldn’t remember so much detail about that event.”

The Prophet shook his head.

“The Elder Scrolls only mentioned that when the Vestige is found they wouldn’t remember their past. Before we rescued her, her last memory would have been of her death. Her mind instinctively protected her sanity from the memory of her murder, but she somehow pushed through and survived it. Vestige is no longer just a weapon against Molag-Bal with no past to colour her perceptions, but a woman who will not hesitate to exact her revenge. Whether this lowers our chances or makes them better only time will tell.”

He sighed and used his cane to rise from his chair.

“Get some sleep Lyris, we have a lot of work ahead of us.”

It took the warrior a long time to find sleep, her mind conjuring an image of a young noblewoman strapped to the altar, Mannimarco’s knife making cuts into her flesh.

 

Thedas, Haven, 9:41 Dragon

The Templar paced in his cell, each step betraying his rising irritation.

“How dare they do this! Did they not see that his work was divinely appointed? Not by the newly dead, doddering old woman dressed in a silly gold hat on the throne in Orlais, but by the Maker himself. Their cause was just and yet his true friends were slaughtered and the cowardly among them joined the upstart Inquisition. How did the Maker allow that?”

His musings were interrupted by footsteps approaching the bars of his cell. Though the dungeon area was dimly lit, creating deep shadows at the corners he could still make out Brother Nicholas’ shape approaching his cell. After refusing to deal with the old Revered Mother, a weak creature who sought power to align with the heretics, they assigned him a lay brother, whose past, judging by his calloused hands was not always with the Chantry. He brought food at regular intervals and stopped to chat. The Templar thought he was too kind hearted and not skilled in the deceit that men could inflict, but could not deny his knowledge of the Chant. Given enough time, he was sure he could sway the man and escape this place. The Just had to be rebuilt, there were mages that yet breathed. This should be rectified and he shook his head driving the memory of a dark haired mage with a smiling face away.

“Food again brother Nicholas? Were it not for the bars I might think you were spoiling me.”

“It’s suppertime Ser. Sunlight doesn’t reach here so it’s easy to lose track of the day.”

“Well, you have my thanks for reminding me.”

He watched the older man open the small window in the cell’s door and put the tray onto a small shelf bolted to the other side before locking the window again.

“Are you not afraid that I would use the time during which you put that tray though the window in my door to attack you and get away from here?”

“Then you will die, quickly.”

Another figure stepped out of the shadows, a woman he’s seen before. He only saw her face briefly, before she summoned something hard back on that hill that knocked him out, only waking up in this cell.

He stepped closer to the bars.

“You had the tall Seeker and the other warriors to protect you Mage. And now you have these bars. It’s easy to issue death threats when you have guards.”

She stepped closer to the cell, lessening the distance so much that he could almost reach out and grab her throat and squeeze until there was no life left in her. That is until he saw her face, at this distance the light from the torches was sufficient. There was no hatred and no fear in her expression. She might as well be discussing the weather outside, only her eyes scanning the bars, his hands and even the tray with his food to assess a potential threat revealing that she reacted in some way to his words.

“If you are trying to shame me, you’re doing a poor job.”

He snarled: “Why don’t you come closer to those bars to show how much you don’t need protection Mage?”

She stared at him for a little while.

“I have a name and it’s not Mage. The same applies to you. Your name is not Templar, its Sebastian La Fontaine.”

He flinched at the sound of that name. It was immaterial, all that mattered was the Just and their cause. He was but one Templar, ready to serve. Sebastian was an imperfect man, the Templar was a perfect tool to saving Thedas.

“You flinch at the sound of your own name. Curious, there are those who would give all they have to be more than the tool of another agency, but you crave anonymity. Could it be that there is a semblance of a man underneath the layers of psychosis created by your cause? A man, who may be ashamed of what he became?

No matter, if you insist on being a tool, you’ll soon learn that tools are discarded when they’re not needed. How useful are you in here?”

He scowled at that, the old Revered mother spoke in a similar manner about names and purpose. He drove her away with harsh words leaving the older brother the only one who dared to even speak with him. The old woman was not a mage however, the younger woman with her harsh words and knowing manner was. She lied, like the rest of those whose veins were tainted by magic.

“Until your kind are gone the Just will not rest.” – He crossed his arms signalling their conversation was at an end.

It was still somewhat disconcerting to hear her laugh.

She addressed the lay brother.

“If I had a gold piece each time someone threatened to kill me I’d have enough gold to buy this town and still have enough to rebuild the ruined temple.”

He missed Nicholas’ reply, but she put up her hands in mock surrender.

“It was just one Mercenary company and I only crippled it.”

They moved towards the other side of the dungeon, where he couldn’t hear them. Scowling at her back once more he moved to eat his meal. At least the food was tolerable.

 

As soon as they were out of Templar’s earshot Lenora leaned against the wall.

“You’ve been dodging me Guild master. If that was so you could play the nursemaid to a rabid killer you needn’t have worried. You have nothing to fear from me.”

The still robust man mimicked her earlier movement and leaned against the same wall still looking at the woman.

“But…There are always conditions attached, Guild master.”

Lenora grimaced at the title.

“If you’re running a scheme to defraud these people, Akatosh himself wouldn’t be able to shield you from me.”

The man shook his head.

“No, no scheme. I left that behind when I married Vannu. When she died I wondered for a while, even tried living as a fisherman. Found out that I’m better at stealing food than providing it.”

“That doesn’t explain how you ended up on another world as a member of most dominant religion’s clergy.”

Nicholas sighed, but gave in to her implied order to talk.

“I was restless. I had some money with me, but that wasn’t going to last forever. I managed to get a job with the Gold Coast Trading Company. They were offering a chance to those sick of the civil wars and the countless skirmishes between alliances and wanted a new life somewhere peaceful. I was paid to help the traders getting these people across to their new life. I didn’t realise that the somewhere else was another world.”

“Let me guess, you travelled to a place that looked like it was a pale imitation of the place you just left and from there you entered into what looked like an abandoned ruin where passages were marked with mirrors. You then travelled through one of the mirrors.”

Nicholas nodded in agreement.

“You most likely went through the same thing. I think we were supposed to go through another mirror originally, but the intended mirror was broken, which caused a lot of irritation to the traders. Then the trip did sour somewhat when one of the traders accidently let it slip that the people, who brought their entire life savings on this journey to start a new life were to be sold off to the slave traders, along with non-affiliated guards such as myself. There was a minor scuffle, but there were more of us than there were of them. After stepping through we ended up in Thedas, close to Jader and from there we went our separate ways.”

“And you had nothing to do with the ‘slip’?”

Nicholas smiled and just for a second, the man who ruled Abah’s Landing’s merchant lords with threats and blackmail was evident in that smile.

“One of the Guild’s side ventures was running cons to fool both servants and nobles. I dabbled a little in that, so when the promises of better pay and great luxury life to be had were increased after I joined the trade caravan I became suspicious. The letters discussing the plans for the slaves weren’t hidden very well so it was a matter of time before the leader of those migrating to Thedas found them as we were about to go through another mirror.”

Lenora gave a brief laugh.

“Can’t fault you there. Fortunately, the majority of the Gold Coast Trading Company merchants are a lot more ethical these days.”

She clarified seeing his eyebrows rise in question.

“I’ve disposed of their top leadership a few years back. The pirate who ran it was trying to upset the balance of power. The last thing the region needed was a civil war. I just assisted a few people.”

The older man snorted in disbelief.

“Not to mention a couple of bloodbaths along the way. Your assistance comes at a high cost Vestige.”

He saw her flinch.

“I didn’t start the bloodshed Nicholas, but I do clear up the messes people like you started. You clearly didn’t stay at the Iron Wheel’s dungeons long enough to remember that.”

He raised his hands, palms outward in a plea for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry. The jab was unfair. I did start the mess after Magnifica Falorah’s botched tomb heist and the blame starts with me. I suppose seeing you here a few months back startled me. That doesn’t mean I’m not grateful to you for saving Zeira’s life.”

Lenora didn’t respond for a while, seemingly ignoring the apology.

“You still did not answer my question. How did you become a lay brother at the Chantry?”

It was his turn to keep silent for a few moments.

“I knew Vannu was sick when I married her. We both thought we had more time, but she died not long after we met. She left me our house and enough money to live on for the rest of my life, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t live in a house that held so many memories of her. I took some money and left the rest to her children from her previous marriage. I promised myself that I wouldn’t go back to the life at the guild after her death. When a whole group of us ended up in Jader instead of Tevinter we spent the first night at a shelter provided by the Chantry. That evening I spent talking to Mother Giselle.

I was never a pious man, at most I paid a lip service to the Divines. The Divines don’t care about you as long as you obey the Emperor and the priests. The Emperors kept on dying and the priests only cared if you had money. Here, Andraste was a slave, yet look at what she did. She could have chosen to stay at the Maker’s side, but instead begged the Maker to go back to his people and sacrificed her life. I have a chance to be part of that, to help like Mother Giselle and not sit quietly waiting for others to order me about.”

He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he held as he finished speaking. Still, the woman opposite him was silent. He continued.

“I was sceptical at first. I spend two thirds of my life in the Thieves Guild and half of that as a Guild master. I ran cons and heists and made sure that the Merchant lords never got too greedy. In Jader, I saw that caring and helping were far more rewarding that anything I had ever done before. I’m not just a used up old thief from the Gold Coast, what I do and who I help now is what matters. I consider it a privilege to help spread the Maker’s word and I don’t shun anyone from his light.  Even if it includes a man so broken he would rather not use his name.”

Lenora tried not to gape openly. She knew about Nicholas from the other guild members and observed a little of him herself. He was a talented thief and had a flair for planning heists. He also cared for his people, mentored and guided them when necessary, but the passion that he displayed here dwarfed that. Whatever Mother Giselle did, she gave him a new purpose and meaning to his life.  Even if it involved caring for the likes of the Templar in a cell nearby.

“I’m glad that you have found a purpose Nicholas. Mother Giselle is a good woman and she clearly had a positive impact on you. I must caution you nevertheless, whoever Sebastian La Fontaine was before, he’s now a rabid bigot that wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone he perceives as a mage or a mage sympathiser. If he ever gets free, he may go on the rampage and many lives will be lost. Your death would probably be the first.”

“I’m surprised to hear such concern from you Vestige. After what happened with Zeira I would have thought you wouldn’t lift a finger to help me.”

“What happened with the Thieves Guild was based on a misunderstanding during that ill-fated heist. You thought Zeira betrayed you, her lover. Instead, she made a mistake that cost others their lives. You reacted to a betrayal and she reacted to your reaction. I was never part of that. I may not be a supporter of yours, but I don’t hold any ill will towards you. I would prefer that you keep quiet about my past. Heroes or not, we’re both here to make a fresh start. This includes calling me Mistress Varelli or Lenora.”

“As you wish Lenora. I do wonder why you travelled to Thedas. I would have thought that settling on Tamriel after all you’ve done should have been ideal?”

Lenora pushed off the wall and brushed some dust from her dress.

“I was offered that option, but it came with a promise of more people suffering and dying. Once you’ve drowned a city or two in blood after restoring order it gets repetitive. At least here, that responsibility is not sitting on my shoulders.”

She started walking towards the staircase leading back up towards the Chantry, then stopped and turned to Nicholas again.

“Please make sure to get the tray and the dishes back to one of my helpers. We had a lot of volunteers lately and we’re running short on dishes; hopefully the Ambassador can negotiate for more donations.”

She turned back towards the stairs, quickly reaching the door to the dungeon that opened and then closed with a loud creak.

Nicholas shook his head in amazement and went back to talk to the man, who believed himself a tool.

Notes:

  1. Have you noticed that the Prophet never refers to the character as anything other than Vestige? I’m not referring to the voice recording even, but even his correspondence.
  2. One of the most horrifying things that happened to Lenora is the fact that her last memory of her life, before becoming the champion of Nirn is the memory of having her chest open and her still beating heart ripped out in a sacrifice to Molag-Bal. I would assume that your mind would protect you from that experience at first. Lenora managed to get through that in order to remember who she was. Almost a test in itself. Still, that’s a lot of nightmare time right there.
  3. ESO doesn’t really specify if you remember who you were when Lyris first approaches you at Coldharbour. However, during your very first quests you ask lots of questions aimed to get players acquainted with the world. I chose to translate it as not clearly remembering who you are at first, separated from your previous identity. That would make Vestige the ideal person to make decisions, since they wouldn’t have any preconceptions marring her choice. On the other hand, the lack of identity and memories cripples Vestige in an emotional sense, hence the importance of remembering one’s name.
  4. I know there was some criticism about introducing yet more people from Tamriel in this fic, but I wanted to show that Lenora settling on Thedas is an option that is available to more than just one hero and her friends. In fact, the use of shadow magic and the creation of shadow gates to the other worlds (which are the shadows of Nirn) is something that’s possible in Elder Scrolls. Of course, this knowledge is still very rare to come by so there aren’t that many people making the move. I do think that Brother Nicholas will be the last Tamriel born prominent character one for a while.
  5. I believe that the more extreme factions of the Templar order did put their members through some sort of brainwashing based on religion. Still, I created Sebastian and it didn’t feel right to just leave his fate as a body to be transported to the dungeons.
  6. Lenora in order to bring order had to go through some seriously messed up situations. Essentially, killing enough people (even if evil) to populate several cities. No matter the cause and even the consequences, being called a butcher when you were trying to help still stings.
  7. Something that never sat right with me is how supposedly a well-liked Guild master such as Nicholas would turn from a good man (no irony intended) into the sack of dung known as Lord Cosh. My theory is that he thought he was being betrayed and thus any regard for the people who supposedly had his back evaporated. Considering Zeira’s actions at the tomb started it, it makes me wonder if the mentor-mentee relationship was something deeper. Nicholas could not have known that Zeira impatience, not malice almost caused his death.
  8. Eluvians may be a convenient plot device, but their role in the Elven wars as well as the magic behind them is fascinating. Naturally, I couldn’t resist adding them to the story.




	13. Elementary my dear Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for the 'love potion' seller is on and Sboth Sera and Varric help save the day. Banter and sillyness galore.

All the usual disclaimers apply to both Dragon Age Inquisition and Elder Scrolls Online.

Thedas, Haven, 9:41 Dragon

Lenora looked at the dress Flissa lent her. It was clean and well made, the blue trim on the ordinary white and brown Fereldan style dress made it look festive. She looked to Varric, who was writing on the small desk in Adan’s cabin.

“I don’t make for a good Fereldan commoner Varric. My features are too sharp for that.”

Varric raised his eyes to meet hers for a brief moment before returning to his writing.

“You’ll be fine BlueEyes. Just lower your eyelashes when you speak to the prospective seller of your ‘love potion’ and pretend to be smitten. Curly’s good looking enough so it won’t be too hard to pretend.”

“It would have been easier to get one of Leliana’s people to do it. Instead I have to act as a love-stricken widow and stare at the Commander for at least several hours in the day. After 3 days I’m starting to dream about the right way of holding a shield.”

“There are plenty of women who would love to stare at Curly for most of their day. Unless blonde ex-Templars are not your thing?”

Varric grinned, parchment momentarily forgotten.

“I forgot, it’s not the ex-Templar bit that’s the problem, it’s the lack of a green light on his left hand.”

“Must you?”

Lenora tried to roll her eyes, but she was too busy adjusting the thin shoulder straps of the dress.

“On the subject of people with green lights…”

Lenora groaned, but Varric was persistent.

“What’s the deal between you and Axe? I know Josephine wouldn’t be pleased, the cook and the Herald are difficult to sell to the nobles. She may just want him for herself, but neither you nor Axe would care though. So what’s the hold up?”

Lenora looked at the dress again with a critical eye. She should get a shawl to cover her mostly bared shoulders once in the outfit, Haven was too cold for that.

“This isn’t a romance from a book Varric. Aedan flirts with me and I don’t hit him for some really bad lines. He probably needs someone to talk to, who isn’t going to overburden him with demands for his help. If not for the stress from his position I don’t think he would look at me twice. I doubt he’d even know my name if I didn’t help with his wounds whilst helping Solas.”

Parchment forgotten Varric stared incredulously at Lenora.

“Are we talking about the same man who searches for you with his eyes every time he rides into Haven? When you asked Curly if he had anyone back at Kirkwall and laid your hand on top of his he was throwing murderous looks at the man. That Aedan wouldn’t look at you twice?”

Lenora put her hands up in front of him.

“All right, you made your point. It may be worth looking at Aedan in a different light than before. You forget, there is still a matter of the giant hole in the sky that must be fixed and neither the Templars nor the Mages have agreed to help us yet. Romance could wait.”

Varric’s sigh shook the walls.

“I despair of you BlueEyes. At this rate I would have to write a romance before it actually happens.”

“I have no wish to be on the cover of “Swords and Shields” Varric. “

Bull had chosen to enter the cabin at this point. The large Qunari occupied almost all the free space of the room.

“Are you ready BlueEyes?”

“I’m getting there Bull. I wish Sister Leliana didn’t have to choose me as the decoy, it’s exhausting to keep the adoring look for too long.”

“What’s wrong with staring at a handsome man waving his sword around?”

Lenora groaned.

“Wrong ex-Templar,” Quipped Varric.

The Iron Bull smiled and tapped a thick finger against the side of his nose.

“If you’re all quite done I would like to change.”

Sighing, Varric gathered his parchment and ink and nudged Bull with his foot.

“Come on Tiny, the lady needs to change and make herself pretty.”

The last comment from Bull as he left closing the door behind him was the mischievous, “Then this would mean she’d have to leave her clothes off.”

Lenora missed Varric’s reply. She took off her dress and put on Flissa’s gown. Smoothing her hair down she put on the curly brown wig that was part of her disguise.  A few minutes later, all the preparations to look like an older Fereldan widow pining after the Commander of the Inquisition forces were complete. Picking up her backpack, she searched around for a shawl Kyrtos and Tryn gave her for Satinalia.

She looked at the mirror by Adan’s desk to check her make-up. Her mother’s voice came unbidden into her memory.

“Is this the dress your aunt gave you for the festival my sweet? I’m so sorry darling, let’s get this horrid thing off.”

The tears, like the memory welled up in her eyes just as suddenly.

She dabbed at the tears as not to smudge her eye-shadow and stepped out into the cold.

 

Lenora never claimed to be a warrior of great skill and she was fortunate enough to have never needed to teach swordplay to anyone. Commander Cullen was not that lucky.

How the man had the patience to drill the same routine day after day without running through some of the more clumsy recruits with his sword was a mystery. A testament to his patience she thought as a particularly loud shout in regards to one of the recruits’ ability to breathe and walk at the same time was brought into question. She glanced at the sun that was sitting low on the horizon, it was time to enact the same scene with the Commander as she did the last few days. She reluctantly got up and walked closer to the recruits. Her walk was a signal to the Commander to approach her.

He spoke to one of his lieutenants, who then took over the training by shouting even louder than the Commander, a feat Lenora thought was impossible. The tall blond man approached her and spoke softly enough so no one was to overhear.

“No takers Mistress Varrelli?”

“Perhaps my face doesn’t express the required adoration to qualify to be desperate enough.”

Admittedly she was a bit testy, but the Commander laughed, eyes crinkling at corners.

“It could be worse.”

“Oh? How?”

“You could have been asked to masquerade as an Orlesian noblewoman instead of a Fereldan merchant. Than you would have to be here all day instead of just a few hours.”

Lenora couldn’t help it, she laughed. When she was asked to work as a decoy so the aphrodisiacs peddler, whose potions were doing damage to her kitchen’s reputation would approach her to sell his wares, she never suspected that the Commander had a sense of humour. It wasn’t as easily visible as Aedan’s, but it was there buried beneath layers of armour and that ridiculous cloak of his.

Cullen smiled, clearly pleased with the joke and Lenora’s breath caught momentarily. Mara’s tits! The man didn’t even realise how handsome he was! It explained the efforts to ruin her cooking with fake love potions.  This in addition to his skills on the battlefield would have been enough to drive many women to take desperate measures. She admitted to herself that in this moment her earlier dislike of him was almost completely gone.

They exchanged a few more words and then as per the scenario dictated by Leliana parted with Lenora pretending to wipe the tears of disappointment. This involved blinking rapidly, which prompted another smile from her so-called paramour.

When a young man approached her a few minutes later asking if she wanted to secure the object of her affections she wanted to kiss him.

 

An hour later, dressed in one of her own dresses she retold her experience at the so-called love dealer to both Josephine and Leliana in a small room deep inside the Chantry. Josephine giggled at her descriptions of the florid man, whose trade shop smelled of patchouli and ravashne.

“While he styles himself Master Florian, whose expertise in potions was taught to him by Rivaini shamans, he’s most likely a Free Marcher with a flair for confidence tricks. His assistant, Lyle seems to believe him completely so he is most likely a patsy, probably designed to take the fall once the disappointed clients realise that the potions didn’t work.”

“Clever. I suppose he had a separate meeting with you and charged you just enough to make it slightly pricey for a merchant’s widow, but not expensive enough that you’d refuse?”

That came from Leliana, who seemed to be amused by her account.

“That’s right. He said I had ‘other competitors’ that were willing to pay more, but since the Commander already knew me he was willing to lower his price for me. A mere 180 sovereigns.”

“180 gold pieces for some trickery, that man should be jailed!”

Josephine was indignant. Lenora concealed a smile, the Ambassador like many nobles had romantic ideas about the marriage practices in the merchant and lower classes. Perhaps not as much as the upper classes, but marriage was still a transaction to benefit both parties no matter the social class.

“It seems the Commander is popular my lady. Master Florian stated that only the wish to conquer the Herald’s heart would cost more, but he is only willing to accept commission from noble ladies. I was given to understand that as a widow of a well-off merchant the Commander will be the pinnacle of my aspirations.”

“Class conscious too.” Muttered Leliana.

Lenora burst out laughing, this seemed to provide the permission to laugh to the other two women as well and soon the room was filled with the sounds of laughter. It almost died down when the door opened and a rather irate Commander walked in.

“Is it too much to ask for some quiet when doing paperwork...Oh, my apologies, Sister Leliana. I didn’t realise you and Josephine as well as Mistress Varelli were here.”

This seemed to prompt a renewed burst of laughter puzzling the man even more. Leliana regained her composure first.

“It’s quite all right Cullen. We were just discussing what to do with our love potion problem. Mistress Varelli finally managed to attract the merchant’s attentions. It seems that your affections are only eclipsed by the Herald in price. Mistress Varelli was told to bring 180 sovereigns in order to secure your affections.”

The blush started slowly creeping up the man’s neck. He rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture Lenora realised was one of nervousness.

“Must we go into that again?”

Josephine supressed a giggle.

“It seemed we’re almost at an end Commander. A few more days and perhaps a small show to convince the merchant, then we should be able to get his customer list.”

“And to find out how the food gets spoiled between leaving the kitchen and arriving at the intended recipient.”

Lenora added with a frown. Than something else had occurred to her and she gave a questioning look to the Ambassador.

“What show?”

Cullen, whose blush has managed to recede turned his own questioning look at the Antivan.

Josephine replied somewhat defensively:

“A show to convince the merchant that his potion works of course.”

Three unbelieving stares were aimed at her direction. Leliana spoke first, sensing that the other two people would be far less gentle in their replies.

“Josie, the merchant knows that his herbs don’t work. If we do anything to show otherwise he’ll suspect foul play. He can simply claim that his client’s dedication wasn’t strong enough if nothing happens.”

Josephine’s face fell. She was clearly looking forward to contribute to the ruse, but the option that the merchant knew that his herbs didn’t work all along didn’t occur to her.

Leliana turned to the other two people in the room.

“Mistress Varelli, I will give you the money Master Florian asked for upfront. Arrange the time and try to distract him as much as possible. I will have my people investigate the back of his shop. They would need at least 20 minutes so ask him as many questions as you can, no matter how inane.”

Lenora nodded. She didn’t enjoy the disguise, even if it was more believable than some of the ones she was forced to employ in her years of solving problems whilst travelling across one of Nirn’s largest continents, mostly because her wig itched when worn for longer than an hour. She would have preferred a magical trinket to masquerade her appearance, but alas, Thedas’ never really explored the potential uses magic could have for spying on others.

Leliana carried on issuing instructions.

“Josie, I need you to delay the Count and his daughters for a few more days. It’s possible, one of them had been approached by Master Florian’s servant. Commander, continue your mini-talks with Mistress Varelli, but increase the duration of talking with her starting tomorrow. This gives Master Florian the chance to boast of his success to his client.”

Both Josephine and the Commander nodded, the former still a little sad her intended show would not be needed.

 

The following day Lenora in her disguise as an older Fereldan widow pining for Commander of the Inquisition entered the hastily built shop to converse with the ‘esteemed’ herbalist. It took considerable willpower not to laugh at the man’s woeful lack of knowledge of plants as she questioned the veracity of the potion to be given to the Commander. She was careful not to question how the potion was to be delivered despite her curiosity. Despite her careful monitoring she still could not identify the culprit spoiling the food going to the Commander or to some of the noble guests. The incidences decreased, but the ‘potions’ still found their way to the food with alarming regularity.

After leaving a heavy pouch and questioning the ‘potion master’ for far longer than the required 20 minutes she left, hoping that whoever Leliana hired would be good enough to get what they needed first time.

It was only the next morning when she returned the dress to Flissa did she have a clue on who that agent may be. The faint smell of ale combined with oil used for oiling crossbows that was present when she was at the shop belonged to the elven woman who propped her feet at the nearest tavern table.

“Sera.” – It was a polite enough greeting to someone who frequently borrowed ingredients from her cooks under the flimsiest of pretences.

“Aah, the high and mighty head cook came to say hello a little ol’ me. Look, I didn’t free the last batch of cookies if you’re wondering. They’ve got raisins in them, yech!”

Lenora sat down at the same table before replying.

“I wasn’t wondering, that batch was for the scouts going to Fallow Mire. As far as I know, they don’t mind the raisins. I was wondering if you found anything of interest in Florian’s shop.”

That got the elven woman’s attention. Her eyes narrowed.

“You weren’t supposed to know that. Who told you?”

Lenora rolled her eyes.

“Mostly the smell. You spend a lot of time in the tavern and the embrium infused oil used for your bow is expensive, so only very few people use it. You’re the only one who uses the oil and is able to be quiet enough to sneak to the shop.”

Sera snorted.

“So you know more than just cooking. I’m not supposed to say anything to you. Serves everyone right if a few meals for some snooty nobs gets spoiled. Don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that a man almost died and if he had it would have been blamed on the Inquisition, losing a lot of the support Josephine managed to get so far to keep the Inquisition going. The big deal is that the majority of my staff, the ‘little’ people you claim to protect as a Red Jenny would have been kicked out, in order to show that the matter had been dealt with. Most of them, don’t have anywhere else to go and no way of supporting themselves. That’s the big deal.”

Lenora didn’t raise her voice, but her words had the required effect on the blonde elf.

“No need to get yer knickers in a twist. I see your point. I’ll ask Leliana if I can get you the info you need.”

Lenora got up from the table.

“Thank you, that’s all I ask.”

 

Sera approached her later that day and thrust a large scrap of cloth into Lenora’s hands.

“This was the only thing I could find in the shop that didn’t look like it was used to store herbs. No one can tell us where this could come from. This is not from a uniform of either the visiting nobs or anyone in the Inquisition. Even Leliana is quite stumped.”

Lenora turned the piece of silk in her hands several times and brought it to her nose to smell. A faint scent of lavender still clang to the cloth that had ragged edges. Something nagged at her mind, but she couldn’t identify it.

“Can I keep this?”

“Sure, no one else knows what to do with this. This Master Florian is a creepy bugger. You’ll have to continue making kissy faces at your Cully-Wully until we get some more evidence.”

Lenora gaped inelegantly at the blonde before managing to close her mouth.

“My what?”

“You know, the Commander. The big Templar waving his sword about and shouting at the poor blokes who never had to hold a shield in their lives.”

“I gathered who you were referring to. Can you maybe not talk about that? I’m sure the Commander is mortified as it is.”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say as Sera grinned even wider.

“Wot? Afraid your Herald will find out and they’ll have to battle it out?”

Lenora grit her teeth. It was like being in the Imperial Academy again with a bunch of giggling 13 year old girls.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to, but the last thing everyone needs is to spread rumours about the Herald and the Commander being at odds. Never mind my name being mixed in for no good reason.”

“I thought nobs loved this sort of thing.”

“I can assure you, the people whose names are bandied about wouldn’t love it at all, especially if like the Commander they are not nobles.”

“Relax, just pulling your leg. Should have seen your face though. You were getting red there when I mentioned the Commander and even redder when I mentioned Aedan.”

“Primarily from shock.”

“If ye say so. I’m still trying to decide who you like better, the blonde or the brunette. Seem to have a thing for them Templars. Must be a mage thing.”

“Sera, if this conversation goes any further I may just forget to remind my bakers not to put in raisins in tomorrow’s batch of biscuits.”

“That’s just mean!”

Lenora smiled.

“Well, if you are to confuse the head cook with the images of ex-Templars battling each other you have to face the consequences.”

Sera laughed in response.

“I think you have a naughty streak in you BlueEyes. I may like you yet!”

With that, she walked out of the kitchen sniggering to herself.

 

Sometime later, Lenora sat on one of the beds in Varric’s and Solas’ cabin. Writing out supply orders was a lot easier to do to the accompaniment of Varric’s quill scratching against the parchment as opposed to the constant hum and hushed whispers always present in the Chantry. Finishing the latest calculation she thought about the almost constant increase in volunteers, many of them refugees looking for a place to have some shelter and a warm meal. She looked at her numbers again, Leliana’s scouts would not be pleased at the increased amount of vegetables and meat and flour required, but unless they could resurrect the hot house to grow more vegetables or plant wheat at Haven, there was nothing she could do.

“You’re frowning BlueEyes, never a good sign. Want to tell Papa Varric why?”

The scratching of the quill stopped. She had almost forgotten anyone else was in the cabin. Varric was wearing a robe that left a good portion of his chest exposed. Not exactly a wise fashion choice for Haven’s cold climate, but in the warm cabin it sufficed.

“Just trying to see how I can reduce the amount of supplies we need whilst providing more food.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. There was a harsh winter and on top of the civil war we’re trying to put down the pickings are slim. You’re doing the best you can, but no one can magic more food out of thin air. Hawke tried to explain the why to me once, but after the first hour I got lost.”

“If you conjure a physical carrot, once the spell finishes, the nutrients from your body you received from eating the carrot will be removed. It would take a great deal of energy to keep the spell permanent to make sure those nutrients remain, which in turn will likely leave the caster drained. In the end, it’s more practical to just grow the carrot.”

“Well, there goes a side-plot for my future book.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something else quick enough.”

“True. I just wish it wouldn’t be so cold, confining me to this cabin so much. My best ideas come when I’m not freezing.”

Lenora raised her eyebrows.

“You could get a robe that covers your chest,” She said teasingly

Varric gave her a mock-glare.

“And deprive the world of the perfection of my chest hair? Perish the thought, there would be desolate women across Thedas if such blasphemy were to be perpetrated. “

“We wouldn’t want that, I’m sure.”

Lenora tried not to smile. The subject of Varric’s chest hair had been immortalized in his book about Hawke, not to mention his frequent comments about it, especially when Cassandra was in the vicinity. As far as deflection techniques went, it wasn’t the worse she’s heard.

She was about to leave to give her findings to Josephine when she heard Varric swear.

“Damn moths. This is the last time I leave my trunk at the Chantry for safe keeping.”

She looked towards the dwarf to see him holding a lower piece of the robe that sported a rather prominent hole with ragged edges and then she had her answer.

“Varric, you’re a genius,” She announced as she leaned towards him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I know that BlueEyes, but what particular area of my genius are you referring to?”

The last part of his question ended up addressing empty air as Lenora rushed out of the cabin, barely remembering to close the door. Varric sighed and went back to his writing.

 

It was sometime later, when Varric decided to venture outside his warm cabin did he see several guards that came with one of the visiting Orlesian nobles dragging a portly man between them, the man’s shrill voice promised retribution from a mysterious patron at every step he was forced to take. He got especially shrill as he was finally dumped into a cart where another guard locked manacles around his wrists and ankles.

He wasn’t surprised when Lenora joined him. She looked surprisingly smug, a triumphant smile on her lips.

“Finally caught your potions peddler BlueEyes?”

“Master Florian will not be selling any concoctions at Haven.” She continued, “Or anywhere else for that matter for a good long while. Thanks at least partially to you.”

“Glad I could oblige. Now how exactly did I help?”

Lenora glanced at him, “Do you have your quill and parchment ready?”

Varric gave an impatient sigh. “I’m sure the events are memorable enough that I can recall them from memory.”

“All right. Do you remember when you complained to me about the moths eating at your dressing gown?” At Varric’s nod, she continued.

“When I had to distract the so-called Master Florian Sera had a look at his workshop at the back of his shop. She found a piece of cloth that didn’t seem to fit with the other pouches that held the herbs. The cloth was of a very fine quality and Florian was too stingy to use something like that to store herbs in.

The cloth smelled of lavender and its edges looked like someone or rather something had torn it from the original garment. The edges were similar to the ones made by moths in your robe and similarly to camphor, lavender can be used to deter these insects. There was only one room that wasn’t cleared out that had contained the vestments used by the cultists that originally inhabited Haven from which this piece of cloth could have come.  So it made sense that the peddler and his assistant kept something important there. When Sister Leliana and I unlocked the room, it contained several Inquisition uniforms and even a couple of Orlesian liveries.”

Varric was impressed despite himself.

“So that’s how the assistant managed to sneak the potions into the food. No one looks at a man in uniform properly and in a place like Haven with people arriving almost every day a new face isn’t likely to attract suspicion. If I were in Leliana’s place I’d keep the assistant, it doesn’t sound like his master was clever enough to think of it by himself.”

Lenora nodded, “True, he didn’t. That’s why Leliana’s people will be taking over his training for the next few months so he can start repaying the Inquisition for the damage he caused whilst his former master will be dealt with by the noble the ‘aphrodisiac concoction’ almost killed. The assistant truly believed that he was helping people find love instead of indigestion.”

Varric looked again at Lenora.

“So after all this trouble for you and your cooks, he’ll be training as one of Nightingale’s people.”

Lenora gave a resigned sigh, “He will be washing all the dirty pots at the end of each day for the next three months, in addition to his training duties.”

“You don’t pull punches BlueEyes. This will be a very tired recruit for the next three months.”

“On the contrary, considering that several dozen people would have lost their livelihood, this is a remarkably light punishment.”

Varric was about to say something else when the glint of a bottle held by Lenora’s right hand made itself known.

“I know it has been stressful to watch Curly train his recruits, but a full bottle of rum on your own doesn’t quite justify it.”

Lenora gave a bemused laugh. ‘It’s for Sera actually. If it wasn’t for her I would still be observing the Commander tomorrow. This is to thank her for freeing up my day.”

Varric grinned, showing white teeth.

“You can tell her she owes me 20 sovereigns whilst you’re at it. My brunette beats her blonde.”

Lenora gave him an unimpressed glare.

“You bet on which I man I would prefer didn’t you? Mara’s breath! And here I was thinking you were my friend!”

Varric had the grace to look ashamed. “It’s just good fun Lenora. We were simply wagering which man’s looks you prefer, not really the men themselves. No offense was meant.”

Lenora raised an unbelieving eyebrow, but Varric’s face was contrite. She relaxed her posture and internally supressed a smile of her own.

“If we’re talking about looks I didn’t say I preferred Aedan’s to the Commander’s.”

Varric’s eyebrows tried to climb out of his face. “Really, I thought you liked him.”

Lenora smirked, “Oh, I do like him. Possibly more than I should, but when it comes to evaluating a man on his looks only I’m not blind. There is something very attractive about tall blonde muscular men in command. It’s just the role of a smitten widow was really taking a lot of time out of my day.”

“Knock me over with a feather! So should I be paying Sera?” Lenora’s smirk turned into an almost predatory smile. “Neither, since there is no clear preference from my side.”

“That’s just mean! Next thing you’d be talking about liking them both,” Varric paused, “Unless you want to tell me that’s your thing.”

He was satisfied to observe a blush starting at the base of her neck crawling all the way up to her face.

“I sense a tale here BlueEyes.”

Lenora’s face turned redder than before. “Oh no, you’re not getting THAT story.”

She sped off towards the tavern faster than Varric would be able to follow. He didn’t and laughed hard enough to startle the returning Inquisition patrol.

Notes:

  1. This is a silly chapter, but I realise that I’m too much of a completionist not to finish a plot bunny I referred to in earlier chapters. Since this is the 13th chapter, I felt that something comedic was in order.
  2. I imagine that the Inquisition provided a lot of jobs for people who were displaced by the war between Mages and Templars. The threat of losing such a job because a noble guest almost died would have been real.
  3. The town of Haven was growing a great deal as per the reports in the game so impersonating an Inquisition soldier for someone daring enough would have been a lot easier than in a small place where everyone knows everyone else. Nevertheless, the scuttlebutt about the more prominent members of the Inquisition will be as robust as ever.
  4. I never really warmed up to Sera during my first play. It was only during my second time of playing the game did I finally start to understand her character better. Writing her speech quirks is still a long way off from being perfect.
  5. Lenora before becoming The Vestige was a fun young woman, who appreciated some friendly teasing. Perhaps with the likes of Varric and Sera she’ll be comfortable to do so again.
  6. As for “THAT story” I wonder if anyone who’ve played ESO could remember the two Breton brothers for one of whom she helped getting a cure from a plant in an old delve somewhere in Malabal Tor. That’s all I’m willing to say on the matter.
  7. I know that Varric can be found outside in Haven, but he doesn’t strike me as a lover of winter so I made his cabin to be his ‘safe from Cassandra’ space.



 


	14. Interlude: Time and time again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how hard you try people still die

Chapter 14         

All the usual disclaimers in regards to ESO and Dragon Age apply.

Thank you to one my reviewers for pointing out the shadow magic history in the Elder Scrolls Universe. This made my own invention more ‘legit’ 

 

**Eden Root, 2E 581**

Holgunn swore a short oath as his foot slipped and the tall spriggan turned its head in his direction. He froze and the walking plant turned back towards the passage it was about to enter earlier and disappeared from view. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned an irate look to the man next to him. Ser Caldwell didn’t seem to have noticed it as he adjusted the old pot that he used as a helmet and pointed at another passage as the intended route. Holgunn grunted and in turn motioned for the others to follow him.  He trailed Caldwell, wiping his forehead. The old abandoned city was overgrown and created a humid warm atmosphere that he was not used to, especially dressed in full armour that could keep him warm during a winter in Skyrim. They were walking downwards to what he could see was a cracked marble fountain probably erected centuries ago. Most of the water was no longer directed into the fountain, but instead formed a large pool around it. A pool, which now contained a very large crocodile flicking its tail. He was about to ask Caldwell why they stopped when he heard the music.

Some time ago, when the Empire was still ruled by an emperor, Holgunn accompanied the Skald King to Cyrodill, soon after Jorunn took power. He still remembered the grand marble hall, the finely dressed sneering courtiers and the musician playing a melancholy tune on a lute in the background. This music was similar, maybe even more melancholy in tone and Holgunn let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding when he saw the Hero of Bal Foyen.

He thought that he misjudged her age at first, it was chaotic when the first Brother of Stryfe was defeated and there wasn’t time to swap stories when they were fighting Serien. He didn’t remember her being quite that young though. He remembered someone older, someone who’d seen some fighting, certainly not a young woman barely older than his youngest recruit. She was sitting cross-legged on a small patch of grass not far away from the fountain, a huge senche-tiger sitting against her right side, its eyes closed. A mass of long black hair framed her face, her eyes half-closed as her fingers strummed the lute.

He called out, feeling somewhat embarrassed that in all their time fighting along each other he didn’t remember asking for her name.

“Hero of Bal Foyen! I’m glad we found you! You’re needed by the Pact yet again my friend.”

The music stopped and she raised her face to meet his gaze with her own. She looked tired in a way some old warriors grew tired of the constant battles and skirmishes. It was an odd expression in someone so young. She looked back down to the lute and began playing again, the tiger next to her yawning and snuggling closer.

That was not what he expected. He thought that maybe there would be a momentary hesitation so she could grab her things before coming with them, maybe even an explanation on what one of the heroes of the Pact was doing so far deep in the Dominion territory. Definitely not this lack of reaction. Walks-in-Ash nudged him softly.

“Perhaps I can talk to her Captain.”

He nodded, still at loss at how to proceed.

The lithe Argonian walked towards the woman, who was still strumming her lute. The tiger raised its head once again, but quieted down when it felt its neighbour’s fingers scratching the top of its head.

Walks-in-Ash stopped before reaching the woman everyone called the Hero of Bal Foyen, whose left hand still played with the instrument.

“If Soft-Scale was here he would chastise me for my manners. In all the time I had spent fighting alongside you I never once asked for your name. I’m sure that when you met him he did. My apologies.”

That was clearly the right thing to say as the woman finally raised her head and looked at the Pact scout.

“That was the first question he asked.” Her voice was raspy, like she hadn’t talked for a while.

“May I then correct my mistake, oh the sun on my scales and ask for your name?”

The human inclined her head in assent.

“It’s Lenore Varelli, Walks-in-Ash. Unlike your egg brother I will not hold that over you. A battlefield isn’t really a place to take offence over introductions.”

She cleared her throat, fingers still poised over the lute dismissal clearly in her tone.

Walks-in-Ash gave no sign that she noticed it.

“It took a while to find you Lenore Varelli. We thought you perished in battle until your friend told us you were in Eden Root.”

The disinterested gaze animated into irritation as pale blue eyes fixed on the still smiling old man next to Holgunn.

“Ser Caldwell is disgustingly well-informed.”

The same polished tones as that of Leovic’s courtiers when they greeted the Skald King, except the grey skinned old man continued smiling as he adjusted the rusting pot on his head.

“My mistress was worried old friend. Thought I’d give these fine people a hand. Didn’t expect you at this ghastly place, but there is no accounting for taste I suppose.”

Holgunn hid his smile as Lenore Varelli rolled her eyes at the old warrior with a similar expression as his niece when told she was not to ‘walk about’ with his new lieutenant.

“This is coming from someone who finds ColdHarbour beautiful.”

“Now my dear. You’ve done wonders to the place recently.”

The young woman sighed and put her lute to the side ignoring the Argonian in front of her. She got to her feet and walked into the pool formed around the fountain, stepping over the crocodile to get to the basin. Leaning over she cupped her hands to gather some water before drinking a few sips. The rest she splashed on her face. Even in a short robe not reaching her knees it seemed that the heat was oppressive. She paused, looking up at the small party a few metres away on the hill that lead down to the fountain.

Holgunn stomped on the foot of the tall young Nord he recently promoted to sergeant and glared at another Dunmer recruit, they were both gaping at the woman whose damp white robe clung to her figure. Satisfied that they both averted their eyes from her curves and concentrated on possible threats to the rear of the party, he walked down to stand in front of Pact’s hope for Mournhold.

“It’s Tanval,” he finally spoke. “He’s gone mad with grief from Garyn’s death. He took the Coral Heart, went to the Tormented Spire and now wants to raise the second brother of Strife, Sadal. Many tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen before attacking them. He even talked one of the houses of Dres into helping him.”

The haunted eyes registered curiosity.

“And that requires my intervention? There are plenty of able warriors and diplomats up to the task in and around Mournhold not to mention other areas of the Pact.”

Holgunn faltered. She did have a valid point, but for one thing, that damned ghost’s demands.

“It’s Mavos Siloreth. He knows of a way to bind both brothers again. He just won’t share it.”

The haunted look disappeared to be replaced with genuine mirth as her mouth’s corners lifted up into a small smile, making her look younger than even his latest recruit.

“He insulted everyone he came across didn’t he?”

Holgunn’s patience with the situation finally snapped.

“Tanval is his descendant, but he blasted anyone from the house of Indoril who tried to talk to him. Others had similar luck. He kept talking about the woman that couldn’t be possessed. We couldn’t figure it out at first, most who spoke to him had never met you and those who did, never heard of you being referred to in this way. Walks-in-Ash finally figured out it was you when he mentioned that the woman was only slightly less dim-witted than his so-called descendants, because she helped to put Balreth down.”

The woman, Lenore he corrected himself inwardly, started laughing. This went on for a short while.

Holgunn didn’t find this that funny, but anyone who could stand the old ghost probably needed a healthy sense of humour.

She finally stopped.

“Alright.” She said even though that haunted look still lingered in her smile. “I’ll meet you near the Tormented Spire tomorrow.”

Holgunn let out a breath of relief he didn’t realise he’d been holding. She continued, ignoring his reaction.

“I want you to make me a promise in return. Neither you nor Walks-in-Ash quit the Pact. Even if it involves guarding an abandoned tower till you’re old and grey, you two don’t quit the Pact.”

Holgunn raised a surprised eyebrow at the Argonian that came to stand by him during this conversation. Walks shrugged elegantly indicating puzzled agreement.

“Sure. Assuming there is still an Ebonheart Pact after Tanval’s interference.”

That tired haunted look was back in her eyes.

“You won’t die when you’re serving the Pact. I’m too tired of seeing people I like die.”

He put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Anything you say Hero.”

It took far less time to leave the underground jungle than to get in, but he couldn’t help noticing that Ser Caldwell stopped smiling and started frowning until they reached the nearest way shrine where they could open a portal back home and he and his soldiers parted ways from the strange man.

When both he and Walks were rewarded and subsequently retired by their Commander with a home and gold after the victory over Jorunn’s brother, he didn’t think he broke his promise. He already forgot about it when both of them accepted the Fighter’s Guild’s offer to fight Molag-Bal as part of an army to be led by the Hero of the Daggerfall Covenant. Only when Walks died from a Daedra’s sword strike meant for him did he remember the Hero’s haunted look.

_Some things were clearly meant to be_ was his last thought and he charged the remaining Daedra giving the others the time needed to defeat the enemy.

 

 

**Hinterlands, 9:38 Dragon**

Lenora made a motion of wringing her hands as the laundry hanging in mid-air above the stream in front of her started twisting itself, excess water dripping back into the river.

It has been some time since she thought about Holgunn. His actual time of death was not nearly as upsetting as when she went back in time courtesy of the Daedric Prince Meridia, and became friends with the one-eyed warrior and the statuesque Argonian Walks-in-Ash. Certainly not since Tryn, Kyrtos and she stumbled from a large mirror in the shadow world of Nirn into the outskirts of the Hinterlands.

She remembered the hot humid atmosphere of Eden Root. In some ways the presence of the old jungle spirit once driven mad with hunger and enslavement, was calming. When she was in the abandoned city a mental link made sure the other inhabitants of the city namely spiggans, crocodiles and senche-tigers did not attack. This had the side benefit of dulling the grief and the guilt she felt once she recognised those she was helping on her trips back in time wouldn’t survive the Tamrielic invasion of ColdHarbour.

It was probably the worst with Holgunn and Walks-in-Ash. She liked both of them, their easy camaraderie, shared humour and the dedication to their cause, the success of the Ebonheart Pact. In the first timeline, where she was found by Captain Kaleen, she barely spoke two sentences to the one-eyed man. The amount of fighters and mages stranded in ColdHarbour that needed to be rescued barely gave her enough time to spend with Darien and both leaders of the Guilds, much less any others she encountered. As soon as they were ready, the army compromising of the leftovers of the Mages and Fighters Guilds marched to conquer and ultimately dismantle anything and anyone that might have helped Molag-Bal’s invasion into Nirn.

Still, despite the enchantment laid on her so the members of the other alliances would not recognise her, as she was yet again asked to fix the majority of wrongs on the continent, she tried to warn them. Not that it helped, they still perished and she often wondered if Akatosh, god of time did not ensure that no one could prevent their appointed death. Except for her it seemed, being Nirn’s Champion perfectly attuned to the Mundus allowed her to resurrect after being killed again and again to win those often impossible battles, always restoring her to the age and look at the time of her first death, a 19 year old Imperial noble from Cheyindal.

It took a while for her guilt to subside. To realise that she was not responsible for their deaths. Even if she did lead them to battle the denizens of ColdHarbour. Even if only about 50 of them survived to see their victory. That didn’t mean that the remembrance of the likes of Walks-in-Ash and others did not flood her with sadness.

She spotted a shadow coming down the hill in her peripheral vision. Judging by the slowness at which it progressed towards her it could only be their hostess. Lenora was still amazed that they managed to meet someone, who was originally from Tamriel. Admittedly, they got there more by sheer chance, rather than the directed she received instructions from the head of the Mages Guild. Nevertheless, she did wonder how often the two worlds interacted in the past given that there were at least 5 known gates into the shadow versions of Tamriel where the large mirrors used to get into Thedas were situated.

“Alyx,” she greeted not turning her head as the much older woman made her way down the hill to the stream by which she sat.

“I’m always in awe of your situational awareness Lenore,” was the other woman’s tart reply. “Did you learn it at the Thieves’ Guild?”

Lenora finally turned to answer, an amused smile on her face in response to the verbal barb.

“You’re in fine form today. Did your daughter-in-law come to visit whilst I was away?”

The shorter woman, still beautiful despite the wrinkles lining her heart-shaped face and hands twisted by arthritis gave out an undignified snort.

“I have no idea how my son managed to live with that harpy for 30 years. If we were in Tamriel I would have hired someone to turn her into one. She’d be a harpy crone in no time, ruling the roost.”

Lenora tried to hide her laughter, unsuccessfully. This earned her another glare, but the old woman seemed to relax.

She continued, “I see a fine use of your magical abilities. At this rate we can hire you out as a laundress. Preferably without anyone seeing how you actually do it.”

The sheets that were still being magically wrung during their conversation proceeded to fold themselves into the nearby basket.

“It’s good practice. What you call the Veil here makes it more difficult to do magic, even the minor spells. Those who had only a minor talent in Tamriel cannot do magic at all as Trynhild found out last week.”

The old woman was silent before replying.

“You could ask a local mage to teach you how to channel magic their way, beyond what I already showed you. You’ll occasionally have visits from Fade demons, but in my experience they don’t like us.” She giggled, a sound completely unsuited to her image of an older matron. “We’re too demanding for them by asking to produce things outside the Fade.”

“I had one demon try when I was experimenting about a month back. It complained when I refused its offer to have any man I want. It was downright incensed just before I fried it with lightning. That was my only encounter. It’s like they never met a mage who wasn’t satisfied with their mental trickery.

Then again, there aren’t that many people from Tamriel here to make it worthwhile.”

Alyx sat down on the large rock near the stream.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Maybe not now, but in the past there was greater interaction between the two worlds I think. Have you never noticed the similarities between the Nord tribes and Ferelden natives? I was here during the Orlesian occupation. Take away the chevaliers’ manners of speech and those silly masks and you could mistake them for Bretons.”

Lenora nodded in agreement.

“The man who directed me to Thedas mentioned a theory that stated that the Dwemer first found a way to travel to shadow worlds and from there discovered ways to go to other places. Not just reflections of Nirn, but worlds in their own rights. I believe that those of Thedas, most likely the ancient elves, if the Dalish tribe we encountered a few months back were correct, knew how to travel to other worlds using those strange mirrors. The large mirror Kyrtos, Tryn and I travelled through were not of Dwemer or any other mer-make seen on Tamriel.”

Alyx shrugged. “Who knows who came over first? I’m forever grateful to be here. If not, I’d still be the stupid travelling merchant unlucky enough to be caught by hags and turned into one by a ritual.  The man who became my husband probably would have killed me and went back to his employers to get the coin for the job. Instead he chased me through the shadow gate and into Thedas.”

“I keep forgetting that your arrival here reversed the effects of the ritual. There are no hags here and the presence of the Veil dissipated any other magical influences.”

“And I keep thanking their Maker for this every day. Instead I had a good life with a good man. The gods may have been unfair to force you to live here after all you’ve done, but this is a good land with good people.”

Lenora sighed, “You’ve told me that before. I suppose I’m restless after so much time spent running across Tamriel.”

“My girl, you’re a Nibenese noble raised to manage court intrigues and large scale trade. It’s in your blood to be restless. You’ll be bored with a farmer boy in 5 minutes. Aim higher. It’s a shame the Arl is married.”

Lenora laughed.

“Don’t you even start!  You and Kyrtos could open up a shop together at this rate. I’ve barely been out of Hinterlands and you two are already trying to marry Tryn and me off.”

“Huh, getting Tryn not to knock a suitor off with one hit would be a good start. What do they feed them in Bleakrock?”

There was a noise not far from their location sending both women into silence. Lenora tensed, but relaxed shortly afterwards.

“Just a couple of nugs I saw earlier today.”

“You put the hunters here to shame Lenore. I wonder if the Thieves Guild realised what a valuable resource they were losing.”

Lenora rolled her eyes in response.

“I got involved in that guild to see if I could draw the Worm cultists in the Iron Wheel mercenary company out. Since they were hunting the guild in Abah’s Landing it made sense to make contact with the local charter. I wasn’t planning to be an active member.”

“Well they did teach you to move silently, didn’t they? Good exchange as far as I’m concerned.”

Lenora was picking up the large basket with the clean laundry, finally settling it on her hip.

“Well, that I learned in the Dark Brotherhood. The rest was just good practice.”

Alyx looked stunned, but then she grinned.

“I’m not surprised. Anyone crazy enough to run with the Undaunted can handle an assassin cult.”

“The majority of the Dark brotherhood are pictures of sanity in comparison to the Undaunted. The mildest term I heard being used in connection to the Wayrest enclave was ‘Those lunatics with axes’.”

“Did you at least become the Assassins’s Guild’s guildmaster?”

Lenora extended her left hand grasping Alyx’s right one to provide her with balance as she got up from the ’bench’ so they could walk back to the house.

“I wasn’t that crazy.”

 

Notes:

  1. Life conquers time of all writing fanfic, even those with planned chapters. This chapter was borne out of the need to address the experiences that Lenora had being thrown back in time and into battle again and again. Soulless or not, Lenora is not a robot and sadness and depression as well as the desire to hole up somewhere to be alone would have made an appearance. What better hideout than an abandoned Altmer city, whose spirit you managed to conquer and then befriend.
  2. In this fic, Lenora is the only soulless, the only Vestige. She is the one on whom the burden of uniting/saving Tamriel is placed. This doesn’t come without a cost of course.
  3. The easiest explanation for Vestige looking exactly as they were at the time of death was to have them age normally, acquiring scars from battles, etc. Every time the Vestige is killed, she is restored to the same age and look as her first death at the hands of the Worm cult leader. This is why Holgunn thought she was older, somewhere between fighting the first brother of Strife and the Eden Root encounter Lenore may have been ‘killed’, thus despite her mental age she still looks like a 19 year old.
  4. There are some spoilers for the Ebonheart Pact storyline for the first 10-15 levels in the first part of the chapter.
  5. Lenora’s Imperial name is Lenore, without the ‘aah’ sound. It was probably easier to blend in the Hinterlands by adopting a more ‘Fereldan’ sounding name.
  6. The idea of shadow magic does exist in Elder Scrolls, although it was officially ‘discovered’ during the times of Elder Scrolls “Daggerfall” game. I merely rolled back the knowledge a few centuries.
  7. Undaunted are crazy, but if anyone ever played Skyrim they’d know that being the Listener at the Dark Brotherhood tops that. Although the majority of the assassins in ESO are somewhat more …balanced.
  8. Why would a decorated wealthy adventurer such as Vestige want to join the Thieves guild especially considering her noble upbringing? The only reason that could happen – the presence of Worm cultists in the Iron Wheel Company.
  9. I wouldn’t put it past the ancient elves to travel to other places, especially the mages that are now revered as the Elven Gods.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. New gods are old gods, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the undead skeletons are the least of your problems in a swamp then your past catches up to you. Add in a few tender moments, more people saving and a refusal to get acquainted with the stars and their stories and you have a chapter.  
> This could also be stated as the chapter of where they went to rescue the men that went to rescue the men...

 

Chapter 15

_All the usual disclaimers in regards to Elder Scrolls Online and Dragon Age apply._

Fallow Mire, Dragon 9:41

Lenora was packing away her lute as the off-duty soldiers at the camp were getting ready to retire for the night, when Aedan walked in followed by bickering Solas and Sera. A smiling Blackwall and Varric were the last ones to enter the camp bearing a small chest between them.

“Sir!”

The soldier responsible for the requisitions straightened up and saluted. Aedan waved tiredly in her direction and asked if there was any food left over from supper.

Lenora called out,

“We do, the food is still warm. Take a seat whilst I get everything ready.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but Aedan brightened up considerably and walked towards her.

“I thought you were in Haven.”

She allowed herself to feel a small thrill when he sounded glad to see her.

“One of Ambassador’s noble friends had visited again. His latest visit is motivated by his desire to employ me as his cook and judging from the letter Josephine showed me also as his lover. It was then decided that the best excuse to thwart that particular goal was not to have me at Haven when he arrives. He donated generously the last time he was here so hopefully he will stick to donating money and leave the Inquisition staff out of it.”

Aedan’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“And you agreed to come to Fallow Mire?”

Lenora shrugged.

“I was getting tired of seeing snow all the time. The swamp is not that bad, especially if you don’t disturb the undead.”

Aedan grinned. “You’re not getting any complaints from me about seeing you there. One of these days you will let me know what you think is a ‘bad’ place. I’ve just about had enough of Fallow Mire for a lifetime.”

Lenora smiled as she lifted the kettle to pour hot water into the mug he was holding and then added tea leaves to it. There was no reason to explain that in comparison to the Black Marsh, Fallow Mire was nothing but a pleasant diversion.

She threw a log to the fire under the cauldron that contained the stew and took a step towards the crate where the bread was stored. She turned in surprise when Aedan touched her shoulder, for all their banter he had never touched her before.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said so quietly she had to lean towards him to hear, “me seeking you out I mean.  I know you report to Josie, but unlike that noble if you don’t like the attention you can tell me and I’ll stop.”

Lenora looked at the uncertainty in his face, clearly visible even in the dim light of the cooking fire. Despite their physical similarity, Darien had never displayed such vulnerability with her, preferring to confine it to a journal instead. She put her hand on top of his, which was still on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

“I think we had this conversation before when I told you that if I didn’t like your attentions you would know.”

He gave a small smile, but didn’t remove his hand from her shoulder. They stood like this for a few moments enjoying the simple comfort of touch when Sera, tired from arguing with Solas turned in their direction and walked to sit herself near the fire. Spotting a mug of hot tea Aedan left near the log she brightened.

“Finally!” she crowed in triumph raising the mug and taking a few harried gulps, which then turned into a coughing fit. Aedan walked behind her to thump her on the back.

“It was a mug of hot tea Sera! What were you thinking gulping it down like a cold ale?”

Sera finished coughing.

“I was thirsty. I thought it wouldn’t be so hot after you left it standing for a while.”

Varric joined them holding several mugs.

“Buttercup,” he sighed, “have you never been told not to grab other people’s mugs without asking them first?”

Lenora hoped that the slight blush she had on her cheeks was not noticeable in the dim light. She took the few steps needed to get her to the crate where she stored the bread baked on coals earlier that day. Trust Varric to notice things like her exchange with Aedan.

Solas surprisingly, offered another opinion to divert from possible uncomfortable questions.

“The tea leaves have to be steeped in hot water before the tea can be drunk, hence the reason for not drinking it straight away Sera.”

Then in a tone, which surprised Lenora in its smugness, but explained the bickering she heard earlier continued.

“Even humans know that.”

That prompted the start of another squabbling session. Fortunately, by the time Lenora came back with enough bread sliced for everyone, Solas and Sera were separated between Blackwall and Aedan and the conversation was turned towards crazy apostates made even crazier by choosing the swamp as their home. She wanted to leave them to their talk when Varric moved creating a space for her between him and Aedan and patted the ground in a wordless invitation.  The space wasn’t very big, but it allowed her to sit closer to Aedan, whose response was a small smile in her direction even as he argued that naming a child Widris was the first step in ensuring the child’s mental health was at risk.

The next morning, she gave a mug of tea to a sleepy Aedan who took a little too long to separate their hands once he accepted the mug. The gesture made both of them smile for some time until they heard Varric’s complaints about the need to rise so early in the morning. Aedan’s party left shortly after that to settle the dispute with an Avvar chieftain’s son, who decided to up his prestige by kidnapping some Inquisition soldiers as bait to get the Herald into a one-on-one combat. Lenora thought that the move indicated how little the man knew of acquiring prestige, but the ‘challenger’ was likely no match for Aedan’s experience in battle.

 

She spent most of the morning collecting herbs Adan claimed were in abundance in Fallow Mire, in addition to complying with Josephine’s request to bring some blue vitriol back to Haven. Small lumps of the metal were embedded in larger rocks around the swamp near the camp. The metal, if it could be called as such was used to tint armour. Whilst most soldiers at the Inquisition that wore heavy armour were fine with using the tan and green colours favoured by the scouts, negotiating with Orlesian nobles meant showing that Inquisition had the time and the money to tint the armour of its officers. This in turn meant better deals with the nobles from which everyone benefitted. Except the scouts in both Fallow Mire and some areas of the Storm Coast tasked with digging out the hard blue lumps. Lenora’s shoulders started to feel numb when she decided to stop and head back to camp.

When she got back, dropping both sacks with herbs and metal on the requisition table the atmosphere in the camp was tense. She spotted the sergeant in charge, a lean middle aged man pacing up and down whilst two soldiers stood in front of him wearing guilty expressions. Lenora had a suspicion that both have just received a thorough dressing down.

“Mistress Varelli!”

For a man who was upset with his subordinates he looked like he was the one who received the dressing down, a worse one than his subordinates.

If Lenora learned anything in her years of traversing Tamriel and various places in Oblivion was when a man in charge of a camp had the desperate look similar to sergeant Darrin it was payday for the brave mercenary in that camp. Usually, that was her role even if she did promise Kyrtos to stay out of trouble.

The sergeant’s face changed to one of a drowning man that had just been thrown a rope when he saw her. Lenora sighed and tried not to look too eager for a possibility of action after a morning of digging out clumps of metal from giant boulders.

“Anything I can help with Sergeant?”

The older man combined the look of nervousness and hope in equal measure.

“It’s Deira Mistress. If it wasn’t for that boy…well, his brother actually.”

The situation was serious if a veteran of the Blight from South Reach was babbling incoherently. She motioned for a space where the other soldiers couldn’t overhear and started to ask questions.

“Deira, that’s your niece stationed at the other camp in the swamp?”

The man nodded, shifting his balance from one foot to the other.

“She is missing, correct?”

Another nod.

“I met Deira, she wouldn’t leave her post without a reason. Did she go to help someone, the boy you mentioned?”

Another enthusiastic nod.

“Why would the boy’s brother be a reason to wonder the Fallow Mire?”

The sergeant did answer properly this time, earlier questions allowing him some time to calm down somewhat.

“The boy, Aldan went after his brother, Rolen. Rolen was one of the scouts kidnapped in this swamp by the Maker-forsaken Avvar challenging the Herald.”

“And his younger brother went to rescue him and Deira went to rescue the boy?”

The man sighed.

“The Herald ordered us to not venture beyond this camp and I fear that Deira and the boy are much closer to the barbarians and may have been captured. They have at least 3 hour start on the Herald.”

The man’s voice and tone barely changed when he described the situation with his niece, but his last words carried a few notes of hysteria. He couldn’t break his orders, but his desire to go after his niece was evident. If he were to break those orders he would be at best, demoted and at worst dismissed. No military commander worth his salt would keep a sergeant that disobeyed direct orders for personal business, despite the fact that there were so few veterans in the Inquisition already. She on the other hand, was a volunteer and it was only _recommended_ that she follow those orders.

She and the older man gazed at each other for a little while longer. Then she lifted her right finger to her chin, tapping it deliberately and raising her voice so the nearby soldiers, who discreetly tried to get closer to hear her conversation with the sergeant could be part of the act.

“I believe the Ambassador wanted more blue vitriol and the patch I found this morning is all but cleared out. Sergeant, do you think there is more beyond the camp?”

The older man to his credit caught up very quickly.

“I believe so, but Mistress Varelli, we’re not allowed to go there with you. Herald’s orders.”

She feigned disappointment, “Pity. I’m sure that the Herald cleared out any dangerous elements on his way to fighting the chieftain’s son. Just in case, can you give me a map of the area?”

“Of course Mistress Varelli.”

The older man even managed to inject a tone of disapproval in his voice.

In short time, Lenora emerged from her tent dressed in leathers and grabbed a small bag. The bag, in addition to some extra equipment contained rations for several days and was enough to provide food for at least two adult women and a young man.

Still acting like he didn’t agree with her actions the sergeant handed her a map with both the old fortress and the routes, some of the routes marked as only wide enough for 1 or 2 people to come through at a time.

She set out on the same route as Aedan and his party at first, than at the third split of the roads examined the footprints. Aedan’s party only had 5 people and she was able to recognise the distinct mark of a Kirkwall shoemaker, whose boots Varric swore couldn’t be melted even by dragon entrails.

What interested her were the footprints of what she could see of an Inquisition scout, evident by the familiar boot print of a standard Inquisition gear given to its soldiers. The smaller size of the footprint leading to the west led her to believe it was the younger woman, but the three sets of larger footprints most likely belonged to a nearby Avvar patrol. Interestingly enough, the last set of footprints, fresher than others looked to belong to another Avvar soldier following the rest, but they were deeper, like their owner moved slower. This could mean that he was either injured or didn’t need to hurry. Possibly due to lack of enemies nearby. She set out towards this route hoping to still find both Deira and Aldan unharmed or at the very least not dead.

She was walking carefully, making sure that she made the least amount of noise as possible. Fortunately, the crafters of armour for the Dark Brotherhood knew their work and she was able to mask the sounds her boots made among the noises of the swamp that despite the heavy presence of undead still had insects and occasional birds creating enough sound to create an illusion of a regular swamp.

A short time later she heard men talking, unfamiliar rough voices whose speech she could not make out. A few minutes later took her closer and keeping to the edge of the road she was able to understand them. They were arguing with another Avvar about abusing the prisoners even before their leader, who they called the Hand of Korth met the Herald of the soft-bellied Inquisition.

Lenora approached a little closer, able to see the three men argue with another one, who was wearing an elaborate headdress and mask. By the arguing in front of her it was clear that the others treated the older man with respect mixed with hostility. A young man of about 15, whose hands and feet were tied glared at all of them. Deira was next to him, tied in a similar manner. Both looked bruised and dirty, but alive. Lenora managed to get closer as the more vocal Avvar scout closed up on the older warrior arguing for his commander’s inevitable victory. She wanted to get even closer, but she feared that she would be spotted.

She glanced one more time at the rest of scouts, who seemed to be focused on the argument and not paying attention to their surrounds. Sending a prayer to Arkay in her head, she stepped into the water next to the road and walked into it far enough to be able to swim in the dank river. Getting about halfway between the two banks, she breathed in a long breath and dipped her head into the muddy water for complete concealment to get to the spot where she would be just a few steps away from the barbarians.

She felt something stir behind her, but ignored the momentary panic from being so close to an undead creature and swam until her feet touched the ground. Taking time to straighten up to avoid making too much noise she stood covered with water up to her waist. She imagined she looked very much like the undead she disturbed when she swam into the river. She shuffled, mud from the riverbank making slushing sounds until she stopped where the water was barely above her ankles and that’s when the people on land finally noticed her and her ‘army’.

Another undead shuffled towards the prisoners and one of the warriors rushed to distract him whilst the other dragged them away from the river. The third one who was arguing with the older man approached her. He knew how to handle a sword, but he was prepared to deal with a slow undead creature, not a living one. Lenora let him get closer, letting him do all the legwork in approaching her, then dashed to the right and partially behind the man, stabbing him in the neck and opening up an artery with the ever sharp Fang of Sithis. He bled out in a few seconds, Lenora barely managing to avoid the spray of dark arterial blood on herself. She drew her long sword and jumped towards the other warrior who just finished off his opponent. He would take longer, now that the element of surprise was gone, but he would die.

Whatever her opponent was expecting he was not prepared for Lenora’s skill. He defended against the first thrust of her sword successfully, but was completely unprepared when she dropped the sword, moved behind him and make several stabs to his left side with a dagger. Swinging around to try to catch her face with his mace he missed as she rolled under his swing to her original position and grabbed her sword again. His death was a matter of technique and he was dead before managing to land a second blow. It was however just in time as she had to duck a mace blow from the third scout in the Avvar patrol. Regaining her balance she used her longsword with both hands to deflect his hits and land a few cuts. The warrior was young and inexperienced, taking a long time between his mace’s swings to do damage to his much faster opponent, but not without some skill. Another wild swing and she stepped closer using her sword to swing towards his neck.

“Stop! Please!” This came from the last Avvar who up until then had not participated in the battle.

The shock from the plea broke the younger warrior’s concentration and he dropped his mace from sheer surprise. Lenora just barely managed to twist her sword so only the flat of the blade hit the mostly unprotected neck of the warrior. Both gave the intruding man a glare.

The older man raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture and made a few slow steps forward towards her. Seeing her frown he stopped.

“The Lady of the Skies wove words of your deeds in the stars. Would you not hear them in return for sparing my kin?”

Lenora, still holding the sword to the stunned Avvar next to her resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“The stars can wait. I have no wish to be attacked by your kin as soon as he’s free.”

It was bordering on rude, but when people mentioned fates, prophecies or writings in the sky and stars it usually meant more danger and dusty dungeons with ancient undead for Lenora. Thedas had Aedan to play with, Lenora just helped worried uncles.

If the older man took offense he gave no sign of it. Instead he spoke in Avvar to the man she still hadn’t killed. She didn’t know much about Avvar language itself, but the younger man’s body language showed his reluctance to agree. The older man uttered a few more words and the younger man turned his head, carefully as not to cut himself on her sword, and started to offer his pledge of loyalty in return for his life.

He was a few years older than the tied up boy a few meters to her left. It was probably his first patrol and he was probably hoping to get glory, not death from an unknown woman who swam with the undead. She glanced at the older man, whose lips were set in a terse line. She read worry for the younger man, not hostility and that, added to his arguing for the prisoners earlier helped her decision. She didn’t move her sword, but demanded.

“Get on with it and don’t shame your kin.”

The young Avvar finished his pledge, loyalty in place until such time that he was able to save her life. He still looked unhappy after she sheathed her sword, but didn’t move to attack once she stepped away. It was only then she approached the prisoners.

She freed Deira first, the younger woman thanking her quietly and rubbing her wrists and ankles to get her circulation working. The glowering boy who watched the interchange between her and the Avvar waited until she cut his bonds and then got up to try to sprint to the younger barbarian to attack. He managed to make one step before falling down. Lenora sighed, helped him into a sitting position and in a voice that she used to argue with one of the Undaunted advised him not to attack anyone unless she told him too. Whether it was her ‘scary’ voice or the fact that he saw her cut down the patrol, he agreed, albeit with a similar unhappy look as the young Avvar.

Once both Deira and Aldan looked ready to go a short time later she was about to say goodbye when the older man talked again.

“There are more of them planning to attack the Rift Breaker. They call themselves the ‘Devoted of Korth’. I don’t know if they will arrive in time to help the foolish man-child, who calls himself the Hand of Korth. I stalled them as much as I could before coming here.”

Lenora raised her eyebrows in question.

“We will send word to the forces nearby. Thank you for the information.”

The older man carried on choosing not to notice her polite dismissal,

“The Devoted are led by four Priestesses. They claim that their god will reward our tribe if the Rift Breaker is sacrificed to Korth. The “Hand” will do everything he can to keep the Rift Breaker alive long enough to be sacrificed.”

Deira interfered.

“I can get reinforcements in less than a day if we leave in the next few minutes.”

The man still carried on,

“I had spied on the priestesses when they think no one is listening. The head priestess weeps for her daughter that sacrificed herself to Korth so a great battle could be won. She then pleads for death for someone she calls the Soulless One. Only she doesn’t pray to Korth in her ravings, she calls out to…”

“Hircine.” Lenora finished.

Brother Nicholas’ words about the group he escorted to Thedas not always having been peaceful farmers rang in her ears.

“Her deity has no power here…”

Once again, the image of a Redguard woman’s heart being torn out in her chest, other women watching silently flashed in front of her eyes. Daedra had no power here, she confirmed it multiple times in the last few years. Still…

She turned to Deira.

“If you’re sure you can get to the camp warn the Sergeant do so. These priestesses are dangerous cultists that believe in human sacrifice. I’ve met them before, they assisted the local guard to drive off a large group of bandits. After the threat ended they’ve started to attack nearby travellers and sacrificed them to their ‘deity’. The local guard mounted a successful attack and believed that all the cultists were eradicated. Clearly, a few of them escaped and are making mischief here. I can get to the old fortress and warn the Herald...”

The older man interrupted her once again,

“There should be more patrols scouting on the route back. It will be safer if she and the boy come with you. My grandson and I will join you.”

Lenora glared at him, but he had a point. It was more practical to go to the abandoned fortress that was agreed upon to be used as the intended battleground for the Herald and chieftain’s son, together.

They took the quickest road to join the one that Aedan took.  Aedan and his friends cleared out anyone stupid enough to attack them on the way to the old castle. Once they were sure that all possible patrols had been cleared out they set a fast pace ensuring that the former prisoners didn’t suffer too much after being tied up.

The sun was slowly setting when the still intact walls appeared in front of them along with a large group of undead blocking the way to enter the courtyard. Lenora swore.

“Look!” Deira pointed. She saw Varric and Blackwall running into the old castle’s courtyard and then the front gate, still amazingly intact began to descend.

“Move towards the gate! Quickly, unless you want to join the rest of the undead!” Lenora roared, not caring if she was heard or not.

 She pushed Amundar, the old man’s grandson forward and they ran to the right of the undead crowd. She paused when Deira was hit by a sword of an undead warrior, cut the creature down and together with Sky Watcher, the title the older man introduced himself as and who was at the back of their group grabbed the injured scout and half-carried her towards the wall.

There was very little space left between the lowering gate and the ground by the time they reached their destination. Sky Watcher grabbed the scout and rolled with her under the gate. Lenora paused for just long enough to send a bolt of lightning towards an undead archer whose arrows were hitting the ground far too close to them and rolled under the gate moments before it hit the ground with a dull thud.

Once in the courtyard, she saw the Avvar that sided with the Chieftain’s son were losing to the superior skills of Aedan’s party members. She spotted Sky Watcher swinging his hammer to hit a swordsman attacking Blackwall. She then jumped to sink a dagger in the throat of another Avvar, who was trying to spear Sera. In a few short minutes the battle was over inside the castle. Both groups stared at each other in a newly silent yard. She saw that Aedan was about to ask the obvious question of their arrival, but Varric was faster.

“Still looking to buy those cooking herbs BlueEyes?”

 

Notes:

  1. Fallow Mire swamp pales in comparison to the Black Marshes’ dangerous occupants. No ticks the size of a large dog, lurkers or even carnivorous plants on Thedas. Still, it’s an unpleasant place in the DAI universe.
  2. There isn’t much about the Avvar in the Dragon Age games. The best source is probably the DLC to DAI. I would assume that the chieftain’s son challenging the Herald does so as the way to prove that he can challenge his father for the leadership of the tribe.
  3. Strange new religions or practices in order to gain power isn’t a new tactic on either Thedas or Tamriel. The ‘priestesses’ of Hircine were originally from a forest in Bangkorai asking Vestige for help to deal with some Reachmen in order to prevent an invasion. Considering their love of human sacrifice and Lenora’s first death at Mannimarco’s hands there is no love lost between the two even if they had to work together in the past.
  4. Blue vitriol is a metal used for upgrading or colouring armour in DAI. The armour gets a lovely blue tint afterwards. This can be seen as a status symbol, rather than a by-product of a military application.
  5. Lenora’s reputation as someone who knows how to fight thanks to her earlier Hinterlands encounter and the fact that she is not constrained by the military rules is probably the main reason she was approached by the Sergeant. The army considers the chain of command as one of the most essential things in creating a powerful force. Thus the Sergeant could only ask the only volunteer available and capable to help his niece. A volunteer, who isn’t bound by the chain of command as he is. Failure to follow orders is a good way to not be part of the armed forces for long in fiction or real life.
  6. Yes, Lenora’s habit to help people out is what got her into this mess, again.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. New gods are old gods, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to adventures in Fallow Mire. The undead can really be the least of your problems. Lenora remembers how much she hates cultists and the Herald find out that not everything goes according to plan.

  Chapter 16

 

_All the usual disclaimers in regards to Elder Scrolls Online and Dragon Age apply._

 

“The Inquisition loves a bargain Varric.”

Her tone was light, but unlike the last time the banter didn’t decrease the tension. If anything, Aedan looked stern, when he looked over every member of her party, his suspicious gaze lingering on Amundar the longest.

He approached Lenora, all trace of this morning’s joviality gone from his expression.

“I distinctly remember ordering people to stay in the camp.”

Lenora nodded in response.

“You did, to the military personnel. Not a single soldier or scout are stepping out beyond the border of the camp. Volunteer, remember?”

Aedan frowned and opened up to say something, but she interrupted.

“I don’t follow orders very well if you’re thinking of enlisting me. Besides, there are bigger problems right now.  Deira here was captured by the Avvar before you issued your order. She was rescuing Aldan, who was trying to rescue his brother. Sky Watcher says he’s met you and the soldier next to him is his grandson Amundar. Sky Watcher told us that The Hand of Korth is bringing in reinforcements so he can sacrifice you to his god. They could be here very soon.”

The man opened his mouth to argue, but Lenora had spent close to a decade in various armies in one capacity or the other. Any military officer worth his salt will focus on the potential threat first, then deal with unruly volunteers. From everything she heard of the Herald so far, Aedan was a talented officer.

He turned his attention to Sky Watcher.

“You didn’t mention anything regarding reinforcements when we spoke earlier.”

Sky Watcher remained stoic beneath his mask.

“I didn’t see the warnings that the Lady of the Skies wrote in the stars. Now we have the warning and the additional help.”

Seeing Aedan’s sceptical look, he clarified.

“I thought I delayed the priestesses and their field meat long enough for the Rift Breaker to fight back, but these false priestesses were more cunning than I gave them credit for.”

He sounded embarrassed.

Aedan sighed and rubbed his face. The battle wasn’t long, but there was still the crazy challenger and his retinue to deal with and a small army of undead outside the gates. He really didn’t need any complications and this was one.

He looked to the spot where Solas was treating the injured scout whilst Varric was sharing a health potion with a young boy of about 15. Sky Watcher looked impassive standing next to a visibly nervous young Avvar. Lenora sat on the steps, her usually calm demeanour replaced with a hard expression. She clearly knew more about this than she let on, which meant there may be more unpleasant surprises ahead. He made a face at the faintly glowing light on his left hand that unofficially put him in charge and motioned for Sky Watcher to join Lenora and then walked towards the steps himself.

“There is more, isn’t it?” he addressed both of them trying to push down his irritation with the situation.

Lenora glanced at the Avvar man and let him talk about the new priestesses of Korth that came to his tribe a few years ago. He talked about their disrespect towards other Avvar gods, such as his Lady of the Skies and the first human sacrifice made a few months ago. He mentioned their support of the second son of the chieftain, a hothead popular amongst the younger men with his speeches of battle glory. He finished by explaining that their ultimate plan is to sacrifice the Rift Breaker to Korth allowing The Hand of Korth to gain enough prestige to successfully depose his father and take over the clan.

Lenora stayed quiet and only when Sky Watcher finished, implying that the tribe would invite war from other Avvar tribes if they planned to sacrifice the ‘unbelievers’, did she speak up.

“I’ve met the priestesses before. They’re from Tamriel.”

Aedan’s head turned sharply towards her.

“Are you sure?”

She gave a bitter smile that oddly marred her face.

“Some of the regions in Tamriel have their share of nature worshipping witches. They reject civilisation and prefer to live among nature in covens. Some dedicate themselves to worshiping nature deities, whose dogma includes more than simply staying away from society. One of these is Hircine, who exalts the virtue of ‘prey vs the hunter’ doctrine too much to really be popular. I encountered one such coven led by a woman called Linnae and their devotion to Hircine was extreme.

When we met, her coven was fighting an invasion against a tribe bent on conquering the nearby lands; their grotto being the entry point. Linnae enlisted my help in gathering the necessary ingredients to appeal to her deity, deciding that I would make a suitable sacrifice to Hircine. Before we had a chance to ‘discuss’ this, her adopted daughter offered herself as an alternative. To cut a long story short, a woman had her heart cut out to appeal to her god to help against the invaders. Linnae didn’t take that turn of events well.”

Aedan stared at her for a little while longer before offering, “I’m sorry.”

Lenora removed her hood and ran a hand through her hair before continuing.

“In return for my help in defeating the invaders, Linnae agreed that her coven wouldn’t attack any travellers passing on the main road near the grotto as they have done in the past. I thought I was being clever when I offered the local lord a map detailing how to get to the grotto. I believed that if she knew others could get to her she would keep her side of the deal. Her coven started attacking travellers less than a month after I left. The local guard retaliated and used my map after a large trade caravan went missing. They ended up having to kill the majority of the coven. They thought one of the women killed was Linnae. They were wrong.”

She ran her hands though her hair again, pushing stray locks from her still pale, from exhaustion of running and fighting through the Fallow Mire, face. This was again followed by her earlier bitter smile.

Aedan recognised the regret it represented. Regret from not stopping the madwoman earlier or maybe from allowing the other woman to be sacrificed. He was used to Lenora’s composure forgetting that like many others she carried her own war wounds. He moved closer and gently squeezed her shoulder. Not as an acknowledgement of a fragile bond they began the night before, but a simple comfort he would have offered to anyone in his own party.

He looked at the still standing Sky Watcher and asked, “So, what kind of reinforcements should we be expecting?

Sky Watcher shrugged, clearly anticipating the question.

“Besides the four priestesses, maybe another 4 others. One of my old apprentices among them. This Linnae carries a staff. One of the others, an older woman does the same. I had seen both of them use magic. The other two carry staves as well, but they are different, made for fighting, not wielding the Lady of the Skies’ gift.”

Lenora added, “Linnae is a skilled mage. If the other woman is who I think it is than she is Linnae’s second in command. More of a defensive mage so expect barriers and rejuvenation spells. Don’t know about the other two.”

Aedan nodded and turned to the others, about to call them for attention. Lenora touched his arm and he turned back to her.

“Something else I didn’t mention. After dealing with the coven, the local guard found evidence that when Linnae and her coven attacked, any small girl children would be left alive to be raised by the coven in full devotion to Hircine.”

Seeing the questioning look on his face she added.

“Don’t be fooled by their earlier tragedy or any act they might put on in order to kill you when you least expect it. They are loyal to Hircine and their leader. They’d stab you as soon as your back is turned.”

Aedan nodded and walked towards the middle of the courtyard calling for everyone to gather around him. He wasn’t wild about the complication, but he had an idea. As the others gathered Lenora got up to join them and glanced at Sky Watcher to see if he would join as well. He looked contemplative or at least Lenora thought he did, it was hard to tell with the mask.

“You’re the Soulless One this Linnae curses?”

Lenora grimaced.

“A god stole my soul. Got it back once I killed him, but the moniker stuck.”

She was about to start walking towards the impromptu meeting when a question, asked in a shocked tone followed.

“How does one kill a god?”

Putting her hood back up, she shrugged.

“Carefully.”

 

Aedan’s change to his original plan involved freeing the captured scouts before facing the Hand of Korth. Varric and Sera sneaked around earlier and found out that the scouts were kept in an old storage room away from where the challenger and his soldiers were supposed to meet the Herald. Since the Hand of Korth was only expected to meet with Aedan in an hour, he foolishly didn’t even bother to put up a guard outside that room.  Sera would take Lenora and Sky Watcher to break the lock on the ‘prison’ to free the prisoners and only after that rescue would Aedan and his party meet at the intended location for the fight. In the meantime the others would keep a look out for additional enemies. Any Avvar spotted approaching the keep meant the gate mechanism near the old treasury room will be set to close. Additional combatants, since the undead were dispersing for some reason posed a problem for later, but Aedan wasn’t going to fight a battle on two fronts.

Sera grumbled about being sent on an unexciting errand until Varric pointed out that she was saving the ‘little people’ as befitting a Red Jenny.  The grumbling subsided to a litany of swear words in which Aedan’s future opponent was likened to gunk swimming in a sewer. They managed to get to the storage room easily enough, noting the surprising lack of guards. The room was locked, but a derisive snort from Sera indicated that it wouldn’t stay so for very long. She picked the lock and was about to open the door when a shard of crystal embedded itself in her leg.  A small ball of flame followed, but Sky Watcher stepped in front of the elven archer and the flame dissipated around him.

Sera hissed in pain as she whipped out her bow and sent an arrow towards the direction the flame came from. The arrow cluttered against the wall. A silhouette, made visible by the lone torch on one of the walls, raised a staff towards the elven archer.  Sera only had time to flinch when the staff clattered rather noisily to the floor. The silhouette crumpled and dropped to the floor like one of Varric’s letters. Lenora stepped out of the shadows and leaned over to the dead woman on the floor to wipe her dagger on the clothes.

 “Not bad BlueEyes. If you’re interested in joining the Jennies I’d put in a good word for you.” Sera offered shakily and gripped the shard to pull it out. The Avvar shaman gripped her wrist before she could do anything.  “Careful, it may have pierced a lifeblood road. Let me do it.” He carefully prodded the area around it and pulled out a health potion to give to her. ‘You should recover soon,’ he offered by way of an explanation and made a motion that saw the shard disintegrating.

“Warn a girl before going all magicky, will ya?” Sera grumbled, but took the potion.

Lenora searched the body of the mage she killed. She didn’t recognise her from Linnae’s coven, but the intricate tattoo on her left wrist was one used by Hircine’s followers across Tamriel.

Seeing that Sera was up she opened the door into the room that contained the captured soldiers.

“Quietly and quickly” she said before the first soldier she saw opened his mouth to ask a question.

She moved to the girl’s body again and picked up her hands to drag her inside the room which the captured soldiers were vacating. Sera was struggling to move, her leg wound slowing her down, but they made progress and managed to get to Aedan and the others within the allotted time.

There was little time for Solas to heal Sera’s wound and Aedan asked Deira to fill in, leaving the elf cursing under her breath whilst holding on to her bandaged leg.

They crowded together in the treasure room, which dated back to the times when Ferelden held the fortress. The old paintings and tapestries preserved remarkably well and Lenora was able to examine them, successfully ignoring the still grumbling Sera. She was contemplating the similarities between Breton and Ferelden art when Sky Watcher tensed and made a motion for everyone to stay quiet.

Harsh voices argued outside and were interrupted by a female voice arguing in Avvar. Lenora stiffened, she knew that voice, it belonged to a woman who cautioned Linnae about Hircine not accepting the sacrifice of a complete stranger. Irima was a former guard from Daggerfall and a potent mage.

Sky Watcher removed the maul from his back and motioned for his grandson to unsheathe his sword.

“What are you doing? Aedan told us to stay here you big lug!” the whisper came from Sera, who just managed to get comfortable.

Lenora answered, “If these get to Aedan he is more likely to lose. The woman’s magic can rejuvenate Aedan’s opponent for hours so he could wear the Herald out before killing him.”

Whilst Sera was nominally in charge as one of Herald’s Companions, she lacked the experience in leading attacks that didn’t take place in a city. “All right, how are we running this?”

Sky Watcher and Lenora exchanged looks. Only three of the rescued soldiers were fit enough for combat. One of them was an archer and together with Sera they prepped to shoot from the room.

 “Let me talk to Irima first. She won’t be happy to see me, but it might give us an element of surprise. Then the archers can shoot before we engage them in melee.”

Lenora stepped out of the room and walked towards a surprised party gathered near the bottom of the stairs. The grey-haired Irima, carrying a beautifully carved mahogany staff was the first to recover.

 “You’re like a cursed penny Vestige, always turning up to ruin Hircine’s Chosen’s plans.”

Lenora rolled her eyes, “Spare the praise Irima. Impress the Avvar all you like, but the rest of us have no time for failed cultists. That includes your dear deluded friend that flatters herself by trying to summon Hircine.”

The dismissive words had the desired effect as the other woman snarled, “I should have let you be sacrificed, and then the coven would have been safe.”

She pointed her staff at Lenora, but an arrow pierced her shoulder and she dropped it. Sera and the other archer carried on shooting, killing another member of the enemy party. A giant of a warrior sprinted up the steps swinging his massive hammer at Sky Watcher’s head. The Avvar shaman ducked and the two began to trade blows. The ramp to the stairs was too narrow for Lenora to engage the same man and she called up a few lightning bolts to distract Irima, who by that time retrieved her staff and started gathering power for a spell. The older mage pointed her staff at the crack in the underside of the landing where the fight was taking place and the piece of masonry split in two, the larger piece plummeting towards the earth taking those closer to the stairs along with it. Both Sky Watcher and his opponent tumbled, momentarily abandoning their fight. Lenora lost her balance and landed on the ground barely escaping injury from the fall. She wasn’t sure of the spell used, but its aftereffect left both her and Sky Watcher alone with five opponents whilst the rest of their party were cut off from them.

Her body still sore from the impact of her landing Lenora attacked before the rest of the Avvar realised their advantage. It wouldn’t be the first time she fought against multiple opponents, but this time her abilities were constrained by the peculiarity of Thedas’ Fade that could only be wielded in a certain way and required a longer time to recover. To bypass it, resulted in a smaller amount of magic that could be used to power her own spells. Fortunately, cold steel worked everywhere. She ducked to avoid a clumsy attempt to brain her with a cudgel, which she then rewarded by sticking her dagger into her attacker’s throat.

Irima’s magic presented the real danger, but eliminating her meant going through another Avvar with yet another oversized hammer. She stepped back out of the reach of his hammer’s swing and drew her energy to encase Irima’s protector in crystal. The large warrior to her right, who was in the process of charging her fell under Amundar’s weight, who jumped on his back from the landing, effectively allowing her to proceed towards the mage without worrying about an attack from the rear.

The crystal spell didn’t work as long as it did on her world and exploded, temporary blinding the man. Lenora ran towards Irima with her longsword drawn.  She was too concentrated on her ultimate target to avoid a wild swing of the massive weapon. Her ribs exploded in pain as the blinded brute swung his hammer in a large circle trying to hit anything in his vicinity and even though it didn’t hit her directly, the glancing blow was enough for her to falter and fall to one knee, biting her lip to stifle an agonised cry.

This unexpectedly saved her from a small fireball, which flew over her head, its heat passing near her face. The old woman smirked and advanced towards Lenora, the anticipation of the kill lighting up her face in maniacal glee.  In the meantime, Sky Watcher dispatched his opponent and jumped, bringing his own hammer against the hands that held the staff.  The staff clattered onto the old cobblestones and Lenora, gritting her teeth against the excruciating pain in her ribs lunged forward and slashed across the other mage’s torso with the longer sword. That sent the other woman towards Sky Watcher, his hammer making a final impact with her skull. Lenora regained her balance from her lunge and crouched into a fighting stance, ready for the next attack. Only there were none to be had. Sky Watcher has already dealt with the warrior who hurt her and his grandson killed the opponent on whose back he jumped earlier.

Lenora extracted a health potion from a pouch. Her ribs would require time with a proper magical healer to fully recover, but this should dull the pain and take care of the minor cuts and bruises in the meantime.

“That was brilliant! You swished and he swung and then the biggest guy was dancing all over cause he was blinded and then the big magic guy just cracked open his skull!” Sera was waving her bow, standing on the piece of the landing that was still attached to the treasury room.

“Sera!” Lenora interrupted tiredly. “Commentary later please. You need to find another way to leave the room.”

Sera harrumphed, but complied with the request and soon, another exit from the treasury room to the ground was found. The victorious mood arising from the defeat of the Avvar party was soon broken when they realised that the Herald hadn’t returned yet.

Sky Watcher motioned for his grandson to help him investigate. Ten minutes later, they returned bearing worrying news. There was a group of tracks leading through a portion of the collapsed wall towards the room where Aedan was supposed to fight the challenger.

Sera swore about pesky orders until Sky Watcher announced that he will go and help the Herald since he did not agree to stay behind like an old woman. Sera declared that since he wasn’t a buddy of the Herald she’ll come along as an observer. Lenora sighed, picked up Irima’s staff and asked the sergeant they rescued, to leave if they and the Herald didn’t come back after an hour, to notify the rest of the Inquisition. She joined the other two ignoring Sera’s pointed comment about Herald’s orders.  

They were standing just outside the combat chamber when they heard a woman’s voice asking if the Herald preferred to have his heart cut out before or after she selected a new Hand of Korth. Lenora cursed quietly. She explained to the others that since Linnae’s grudge was with Lenora, she wouldn’t resist attacking her, which meant momentarily forgetting about the Herald. Whilst Lenora distracted the enemy inside, the others could rescue Aedan.

The room when she entered showed signs of a recent vicious battle. She spotted Solas unconscious near the stairs, Varric and Deira also looked to be unconscious a little further into the room. Badly bruised Blackwall sat against a wall, a young woman holding a sword to his throat. Linnae stood in the centre, her staff pointed at Aedan, who looked banged and exhausted from the earlier battle. Another Avvar warrior stood nearby, cradling an injured arm to his chest. It appeared that if it wasn’t for Linnae and her group, the Herald would have won the battle against the Hand of Korth.

The others did notice her at first, she grimaced against the pain of her cracked ribs, but forced herself to walk without showing her injury making enough noise for Linnae and others to pay attention.

“Aren’t you bored yapping about your so-called god already? Travelling to Thedas must have given you other things to preach about, surely.”

She didn’t know Linnae, but any disrespect to her Daedric prince would be the surest way to provoke her ire attracting all attention solely on the ‘blasphemer’. The cultist took the bait, pivoting on her heel toward Lenora, eyes widening in surprise. Time hadn’t been kind to her, where there was a matron full of life and strength an emaciated hag stood, eyes tinged with madness.

“Hero of the Covenant, Champion of the King and Slayer of Molag-Bal. Praise be to Hircine for the gift of enemies to be stricken by his loyal servant!”

“Will you be gabbing to yourself all day or did murdering your own daughter completely addle your wits?”

The old Lenora, the one undamaged by her friends and lover dying for her in the vast expanse of Coldharbour wouldn’t have used her words so cruelly, even to a hated enemy. She wasn’t that Lenora, not since Darien.

“You killed my child by your refusal to bow to Hircine. I won’t be so forgiving today as I was then.” Linnae spat, raising her staff to attack.

The woman looked deranged, not even bothering to question why Lenora was here and if she had help, assuming that as per usual, Lenora was alone. It would have been true on Tamriel, Thedas was another story.

She raised Irima’s staff, as if to block the blow from Linnae’s own weapon making the other woman sneer.

“Can’t cast spells here, can you? Oh, how the mighty had fallen. I’ll rip out your heart before I kill that other man!”

Linnae’s staff flared to life, the lightning at the very tip of it swirling, gathering the power for her spell when Lenora used the butt of her staff to hit Linnae in the chest, pushing the other woman back. Linnae regained her balance quickly, her concentration unbroken as the lightning started leaving her staff when Sera’s arrow embedded itself into her eye. The remaining Avvar warrior’s skull was crushed by Sky Watcher. Blackwall used the sudden attack to tackle the young woman to the ground.

Aedan looked at Lenora, sighed and slowly got up. He had a bloody lip and his right eye looked to be swelling up to a decently sized shiner, but otherwise, he seemed unharmed and tired.

“I suppose it’s good that you’re just a volunteer. I wasn’t looking forward to my heart being torn out of my chest just because you decided to follow orders.”

Lenora grinned.

“As the senior cook in this camp I had to report on the status of our food supplies. Rescuing you was completely coincidental.”

“Well, you have my permission to report on food supplies more often.”

A young woman fell to her knees in front of him.

“Great Herald, please, I was only following orders.”

Aedan looked startled, he hasn’t quite recovered from the battle and the plea surprised him.

“Err, you would need to work on your apology to the Inquisition. Perhaps some menial tasks.” He started hesitantly, but was relieved by her grateful smile. Beside him, Lenora shifted her stance.

The young woman, with a swirling tattoo on her exposed arm got up and threw her arms around him, “Thank you, thank you. You…”

She gurgled and went slack in his arms, Lenora’s dagger in her back.

Aedan looked horrified at the corpse in his arms. He was about to speak when a clinking noise caught his attention. A small stiletto dagger clattered down by his feet from the now slack hands of Lenora’s victim.

He let go of the dead woman’s body and leaned to pick up the dagger, its blade narrow enough to penetrate the space between where his plate armour ended and helm protection began. Still speechless he turned to Lenora with a mute question in his eyes. She answered.

“They were too loyal to Linnae, even if they were torn away from their families.”

Aedan exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “All right everyone. Let’s search this place. The idiot who fought me bragged about a shortcut from here through the Frostbacks. The less we have to travel through the cold the better.”

Later, when the majority of the survivors huddled around a fire listening to Varric composing their exploits Aedan went to look for Lenora. He found her being lectured by Solas, who was tightening bandages around her ribs.

“Solas, it’s not that I could politely ask him to not crack my ribs. He got lucky.”

Aedan didn’t catch Solas’ response. She winced when Solas pulled the bandages tighter around her ribs.

“If you’re done Solas, may I please have a few words with our cook here? Alone?”

Solas looked surprised, but nodded and got up to leave, the bandaging done.

Aedan came closer, politely averting his eyes as Lenora slipped her vest back on.

After a short time he asked, “How did you know that woman would try to kill me?”

Lenora raised her eyebrows in surprise not expecting the question.

“I didn’t. I knew Linnae and the level of devotion she inspired in her followers. They would do all they can to avenge her death, even if it meant their death in return.”

His next question indicated that he thought about it more than she assumed was necessary.

“And if she didn’t? What if her request was genuine?”

“Presume her innocence until she actually murdered you? If we dealt with someone other than a crazed cultist? Maybe. Dealt with these women before, remember?”

Aedan inclined his head, his expression becoming colder.

“A simple push would have spared my life and hers. Then I would have dealt with her. The Inquisition doesn’t just murder people, especially if they were asking for a second chance. It was not your choice to make.”

Then he added, because he felt he needed to make her understand why he felt angry about this. “Do not presume to act for me, because we’re friends Mistress Varelli.”

He didn’t realise the harshness of his words until he saw the hurt look on her face. Then she schooled it into a polite mask.

“As you wish.” She inclined her head, “Your Worship.”

He turned away, regretting his words, if not the sentiment. No matter how wrong he felt she was, she did save his life. The tenuous connection they started back in the last camp snapped as he walked back towards the fire.

She spent another week in Fallow Mire before a frantic letter from Josephine reached her detailing more noble visits to the Inquisition, visits that would be a lot more successful if Lenora was there to provide her culinary expertise. Arriving in Haven she was told that the Herald left to meet with the mages in Redcliffe a week before.

 

Notes:

  1. This was one of the hardest chapters to write because of the multiple fight scenes. Also life interfered.
  2. Consider how easily people in Tamriel use magic and how quickly your mana recovers after a fight in comparison to Dragon Age. In Thedas, your mana will only recover whilst you are at a town or camp or encounter some additional supplies. This limits Lenora, who might be a magical powerhouse on her home world. In Thedas, unless she is connected to the Fade the amount of magic available to her is much smaller, which restricts the number and potency of the spells she casts.
  3. When working through ESO quests, the writing of the quests often leave you with a feeling that the cultists in Tamriel are deranged. Their utter devotion to a Daedric deity or charismatic leader overcomes their common sense or survival instinct. Lenora encountered this level of zeal multiple times, Aedan simply lacks the experience. Additionally, one of the main themes of Dragon Age Inquisition is one of hope. When your usefulness as a hero is often measured by how many enemies you can kill…Let’s just say Lenora willingness to always look for good in people had been lost a while back.
  4. Sky Watcher is a good example of a heavily underutilised character. I thought I’d expand a bit on that. He’s also quite a bit older than the other agents recruited to the Inquisition. Having a 16-17 year old grandson whilst you’re in your late forties isn’t completely out of realm of possibility for someone in an Avvar tribe.
  5. I can’t imagine the Avvar using a similar terms as the Ferelden or Orlesian surgeons to speak about arteries. Lifeblood road seemed a good alternative.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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